


Nothing But A Note

by Awesome_Sauce432



Series: Molly Lives Y'all [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Blackmail, Eventual Happy Ending, Flashbacks, Found Family, Fuck Canon Molly Lives, Gen, Kidnapping, Literally all characters except Molly and Shakäste will only appear for like a few chapters max, Molly POV, Molly-centric, Rated T because I use swear words like punctuation, Referenced Death, Resurrection, Shakäste Backstory, The hospital heist will haunt me forever, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms In Regards to Ones Own Death, mild violence, sarcasm everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-06-17 20:26:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 65,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15469368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awesome_Sauce432/pseuds/Awesome_Sauce432
Summary: Waking up with a curse on his lips for someone he can't remember, Molly finds himself in a rather odd situation.Namely that of someone who was dead, but isn't any longer, thanks to an apparent old friend named Shakäste. The only problem is that he doesn't remember him. Or anything else for that matter.With nothing but a note telling him to find someone called The Gentleman in a city called Zadash, Molly and Shakäste head off together, hoping to unravel Molly's missing memories along the way. They can only hope that when they get there, the rest of the Mighty Nein - whoever they are - will be waiting.





	1. Seriously Fuck You Lorenzo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Molly is dead until he is not.

_ Fuck you Lorenzo. _

 

The words raced through his mind, sitting on the tip of his tongue while dirt brushed his lips. Sounds were muffled, like background noises in a town that were close enough to hear but far away enough that your body could ignore them and later you’d never be able to quite recall if they were real or not. 

 

A tangy copper taste filled his mouth, filled his throat and he gagged- coughing out dirt and blood and who knows what else, but the fact that he could actually cough it out at all seemed wrong. And familiar. Familiarly wrong. 

 

A gentle but firm hand rested on his shoulder, rolling him to the side which allowed him to cough and retch without choking. Questions - whose hand was it, where was he, what happened,  _ why did it feel like he’d done this before _ \- sprang unbidden to his mind but he couldn’t find the words to voice any of them. 

 

There was a soft warmth, unnatural but familiar all at the same time, and he could feel some of the greater aches and pains begin to dim, wounds he hadn’t even noticed closing and healing. He coughed one more time, sucking in great gulps of air - which felt wrong, how could he breathe the air? Why was that so strange? - and wrenching open his eyes.

 

The first thing he saw was snowy ground in front of him, mixed with dirt and mud and grass and stained with blood both dry and fresh. Beyond that he could see stones, and even further were trees, sideways from his current perspective but tall and strong.

 

It was familiar, like he’d been here once before. But the memories were fragile, flitting out of his reach just as he thought he had a grasp on them. The effort sent a throbbing through his head and he winced.

 

“Ah now, take it easy.” The voice, which presumably belonged to the mystery hand - was deep and smooth. It was the kind of voice that could instantly make someone relax if they were so inclined, but he was not. 

 

He scrambled around, pulling away from the voice’s hand and struggling to a sitting position. His limbs were stiff, new aches springing up as he moved but he ignored them, eyes wide as he caught sight of the voice’s owner.

 

It was an old man, albeit one who had managed to retain a great deal of beauty. His skin was dark, starkly contrasting with a billowing white afro and thin beard that hung from his chin. Some beads were intermingled with his hair and his eyes were white and pupilless, yet he seemed to know exactly where he was. One of the man’s hands was still held up where it had been when he had pulled away, while the other held on to a piece of paper. 

 

On his shoulder was a tiny bird with a long beak, it’s head tilting a new way every few seconds and seeming right at home. 

 

He knew this man. He was sure of it. 

 

The shock of the realisation made his brain freeze up, and for a moment he just sat there, staring with wide eyes. The old man paused for a moment too, slowly lowering his hand and smiling reassuringly. 

 

“Is this the first time you’ve died? It can be disorientating.” The old man said, with the ease of someone who was entirely comfortable in this situation.

 

“No.” He responded without thinking. “Wait-”

 

His voice dried up and he put a hand to his throat. The old man’s eyebrows knitted together, and after another moment he spoke. 

 

“Do you remember?” 

 

This time he couldn’t answer at all, though feelings of unbidden shame and horror at that made this whole scenario feel… like he’d done it before. Not in the same way, but something similar. He scoured through his mind, trying to understand  _ why _ .

 

But there was nothing.

 

The old man looked down at the piece of paper in his hand, before holding it up to him. 

 

“I think you’d best read this, friend.” 

 

He took the paper, seeing that there was writing on one side. His eyes flicked back up to the old man, who simply sat there patiently, before looking back down again. For a few moments the words were complete gibberish, but he began to pick through the handwriting - so familiar, so familiar but so foreign at the same time. Some of the words seemed familiar… but…

 

“I... can't.” 

 

“Oh?” The old man seemed surprised, before quietly taking the piece of paper back from him. “Alright then.” 

 

Then the old man began to read it aloud, even though he wasn’t even looking at the paper. Too distracted from focusing on the words, trying to understand what it meant, he didn't even notice. 

 

_ “Molly, _

 

_ I’m sorry we had to leave you here. If you can, come find us through the Gentleman in Zadash, at the Evening Nip tavern. If that doesn’t help, perhaps someone else will know where the Mighty Nein are. _

 

_ Please don’t forget, your name is Mollymauk Tealeaf.  _

 

_ Good luck mein fruend. _

 

_ Caleb. _

 

_ And Nott and Beauregard.” _

 

Finishing the note, he was quiet, digesting each sentence, separating each word and turning it over in his mind.

 

Molly. 

 

Mollymauk Tealeaf. 

 

That felt right. He didn’t know why, but that name seemed to settle into his bones, slotting neatly into a hole he hadn’t seen was there. 

 

“I hope you don’t mind, when I found that note on you I had a look through it myself. Your friends seemed to have high hopes you’d manage to get out of this yourself.” The old man said, passing the paper to him again. “And that you’d forget things. They seem to know you well now.”

 

Apparently so. Molly - yes, that definitely felt right - looked down at the note again, connecting the words the old man had read to each word written down. The Gentleman. Zadash. All slightly familiar words that tugged at memories, but nowhere near as much as some of the others.

 

The Mighty Nein. Caleb, Nott, Beauregard, though Beau seemed far easier to remember. He knew those people. Like how he knew the old man... but something more. They were important.

 

The old man cleared his throat, the little bird on his shoulder - a hummingbird? It must be freezing in this cold - fluffing up her feathers at the slight disturbance. “I don’t suppose you managed to remember me somehow.”

 

After a moment of thought, Molly shook his head. Now that his mind had settled into this new situation, his voice had deserted him. Words sat on the tip of his tongue, ready to be said but never managing it. It was frustrating, but the old man didn’t seem to mind at all.

 

Although, Molly now realised that shaking his head was pointless to a blind man. So he just sat silently instead, but the man seemed to realise regardless. 

 

“Very well then. Shakäste. Pleasure to remake your acquaintance.” He hardly sounded perturbed, like this was a regular occurrence in his life. Perhaps it was. “And my familiar, Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna. You can call her Stacy if you like.” 

 

Molly nodded, realised his mistake again and tried to speak. He cleared his throat, managing out a croaky and strained ‘alright’.

 

Well, it was better than nothing. 

 

Shakäste smiled before slowly climbing up to his feet, leaning on a short cane for support. The bulk of his body was covered by a long thick cloak, but as he stood up Molly could see that his limbs were spindly and lanky, and when Molly stood up as well - a little shaky at first but he soon righted himself - Shakäste was a good inch or two taller than him. 

 

The hummingbird Stacy puffed up her feathers once again, letting out a series of chirps that could almost be described as irritated. When she was done she took flight, zipping around Molly and Shakäste a few times before resting upon the latter’s afro, settling in amongst the hair and looking quite at home. 

 

“My dear, the next time I reform you I’ll make you a very shaggy  _ dog _ . Then you will be warm, won’t you?” Shakäste said, answered by a few indignant chirps from the top of his head. Molly’s eyes widened slightly, but the realisation that he was easily communicating with a bird wasn’t as groundbreaking as it perhaps should have been.

 

Like with his name, and the names Shakäste had read from the note, telepathically talking to a bird just felt like something that… worked. Something right. 

 

Now that they were standing, Molly took a more detailed look around him. They were standing next to a road, which was littered with splintered pieces of wood and branches poking up out of the snow. If Molly turned around there was a hole right in front of him - or a grave to be more accurate - shallow and now empty, with dark patches of dried blood. 

 

Molly supposed that, based on the dirt that now stained his clothes and everything that had happened in the past few minutes, that up until very recently he had been in that grave. He’d died.

 

It seemed Shakäste didn’t know how it had happened, but it had been temporary. And the Mighty Nein… his friends… they had been forced to leave him behind, though they’d obviously had the time to bury him. 

 

Next to the empty grave were small piles of dirt, and an extremely dirty, blood-stained tapestry that may have once been a variety of colours. Now it was mostly a few dozen shades of red and brown. 

 

Molly tucked his letter into a pocket before gathering the tapestry up anyway, trying to decipher the patterns and sigils on it but finding the memory for that came far less easily. Still, looking at it, as dirty as it was, sent a twinge of familiarity and comfort through him, so he wrapped it around himself, which had the added benefit of slightly protecting him from the chill in the air. 

 

He looked up and down the road, now fully aware that he still had no idea where they were. The note had said to go to Zadash, but where was that? 

 

“Where…” His voice trailed off but he noted with pleasure that it was returning. Not to mention Shakäste seemed adept at understanding him anyway. 

 

“We’re on the road between Shady Creek Run and Hupperdook. Though if there’s anywhere else you want to go there’s a few dozen side roads in between headed to all sorts of places.” 

 

“Zadash?” Molly asked, his voice feeling more and more natural with each word. 

 

“That’s south, at least a week or two’s trip. Probably more if we don’t get another horse.” Shakäste gestured behind him, where a brown horse was standing, some supplies loaded up on it and waiting patiently. “He’s strong enough to carry both of us, but it’ll be slow going.” 

 

Molly looked towards the horse. The note had said Zadash. Where else would he go? There was no way to tell which way his friends had gone, but if the note said Zadash, surely that meant they were intending to head that way? 

 

Then he looked towards Shakäste, who had apparently dug him out of the dirt, and possibly resurrected him himself. It seemed they’d met before, so they weren’t exactly strangers, but he wasn’t part of the Mighty Nein. 

 

Still, he wasn’t about to question someone who seemed willing to accompany him to Zadash, and who apparently raised him from the dead. As if sensing him thinking about him, Shakäste glanced in his direction, before reaching from underneath his cloak and pulling out a coat. 

 

It was bloodstained as well, but enough of it was clean for the bright and gaudy colours to shine through. The material was smooth and it was the most audacious thing Molly could imagine. 

 

It felt even more right than his name. 

 

“Your friends left this as a marker. I recognised it as I rode by, otherwise I never would have found you. But it’s hard to forget a coat like this.” Shakäste smiled as he handed over the coat.

 

Molly shrugged off the tapestry instantly, accepting the coat with a nod of thanks - which he could have sworn the blind man returned but he was far too focused on the coat to double check - and sliding it on.

 

Tension bled from his body instantly and he stood taller, a satisfied grin settling across his face. Oh yes, this coat was definitely  _ him.  _ He had never felt more comfortable in his entire life.

 

Or, well, in the past five minutes or so since being dead. Still, one had to appreciate the little things. Even the fact that the cool air was even crisper and the thin material did very little in the way of warmth could faze him. He simply picked the tapestry back up again, wrapping it around himself like a shawl. 

 

“So, to Zadash?” Shakäste said, looking very much like he wouldn’t care if Molly had told him he wanted to go to another continent. 

 

“Yes.” Molly nodded, stepping forwards toward the horse. 

 

It took a few minutes for both of them to get situated on the horse, Shakäste in front and Molly holding on behind him. Luckily the horse, who was apparently named Amiro, was strong and hardy, barely missing a beat with two people and some supplies on his back. 

 

As they began to move down the road, Molly looked back over his shoulder. Now from a distance he could see the scene more clearly. He could see the fresh tree stump from where a tree had fallen - or been knocked over. Broken and splintered pieces of wood were everywhere, and his empty grave and the dirt surrounding it stood out magnificently in the light brushing of white snow that covered everything else.

 

The snow served to camouflage anything else that may have been there, but Molly could tell there had been a battle here. Likely the same battle that had killed him. Only him, apparently, since there were no other bodies or graves in sight. It sent a shiver down his spine, and there was a dull twinge of pressure in his chest, where Molly could sense there had been a wound at some point.

 

His throat felt dry, and he quickly turned away, wanting to look anywhere but there. 

 

Distantly he wondered where the others were. The rest of the Mighty Nein. Caleb and Nott and Beau… and the others. There were others he knew, even if he couldn’t quite remember their names. Perhaps Shakäste would know. 

 

He wondered if they were still thinking about him. Wondering if he’d be able to come back. Perhaps they had gone in search of someone to resurrect him, or for materials or gold or something. 

 

He’d just have to ask them when he found them again, whenever that was. Hopefully it was soon. Hopefully they wouldn’t be upset if he couldn’t remember them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah ok so after episode 26 I was in major denial so here we are. :) 
> 
> Shakäste and Amnesiac Molly roadtrip buddies FOR LIFE!!
> 
> Also now that Caduceus exists I guess he could ressurect Molly but I've already written like eight chapters of this so I'm just going to keep going. But the rest of the Mighty Nein don't have a major part in this story outside of potential flashbacks, so it doesn't change much for me. Maybe. We'll see.


	2. Campfire Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Molly asks some questions. He has a lot of them.

As it turned out, they didn’t get far before having to stop for the night. Amiro was already slow from extra weight, and they’d only gotten going for a few hours before the sun began to set, slipping behind the trees. 

 

The whole time they were riding Shakäste hummed songs that Molly had never heard, Stacy occasionally chirping along in tune. Or, he supposed he might have heard them at some point, but simply couldn’t remember, which was frustrating. But the songs were oddly relaxing, and Molly listened closely, letting the notes sink into his brain. None of them were particularly flashy or complicated songs, but it was music nonetheless. Music was comforting. 

 

But eventually Shakäste let the last note go, guiding the horse to the side of the road and pointing out a large, withered tree tucked just out of sight of the main road as a good campsite. They spent the last slivers of daylight gathering as much wood as they could find, and setting up a campfire and small tent.

 

When it was done they simply sat, Shakäste producing a small metal pot and beginning to brew a strange-smelling stew. He was silent, but Molly could feel him watching him, even though his eyes were closed and he was  _ blind _ . But it wasn’t in a spying, suspicious way. Instead, it was more in the way a father would watch over their child playing in a field. Allowing them to do as they wish but always there, waiting in case he was needed. 

 

It was oddly comforting, and it was a vibe Molly was fairly sure Shakäste just naturally exuded. Stacy disappeared into his cloak at some point, apparently to an inside pocket that kept her warm during cold nights. 

 

“Here.” Shakäste poured a more than generous serving of stew into a small wooden bowl and handed it to Molly. “I’ve never died myself but I know being revived can be exhausting.” 

 

“You’ve done it before?” Molly asked, before taking a sip of the stew. Despite it’s odd, slightly repugnant smell, it was actually quite tasty. 

 

“Only a few times. The Empire usually isn’t so fond of ‘necromancy’. They prefer things to stay dead.” Shakäste’s voice maintained the same smooth tone it always did, but there was an edge of indignation. “But guiding a soul back to it’s body when it’s not ready to leave isn’t quite necromancy in my opinion.” 

 

“Thank you, then.” Molly’s voice still felt strained, the words forced. But he wanted to talk. 

 

“It’s my pleasure.” Shakäste smiled a broad smile that put dimples in his cheeks and would probably make women and men alike twenty years his junior swoon. 

 

Molly smiled back, having some more of the stew. Questions were starting to swim to the forefront of his mind, nagging at him, and he knew they weren’t going to go away. He could only hope Shakäste actually had the answers. 

 

“So, we’ve met before?” He asked, keeping his voice light. 

 

“Indeed. In Alfield, you and your friends helped me rescue some villagers from gnolls. It was… interesting.” Shakäste’s smile drifted into a smirk.

 

“My friends, the Mighty Nein?”

 

“Well, you weren’t called that when I met you. I expect you settled on that name sometime afterwards. Very fitting, in my opinion.” 

 

“Are there nine of us, including me?” Eight other party members...  Molly frowned, frustrated that he couldn’t remember them. They felt important, they  _ were  _ important. 

 

Shakäste raised an eyebrow, before chuckling. “Oh no, far less than that. Only six of you, if I recall correctly. No, I believe your note said ‘The Mighty  _ Nein _ ’. It’s a Zemnian word, I’m fairly sure.” 

 

“Zemnian?” Molly pulled out the letter again, straining to try and find the right words. But with his apparent illiteracy and the low light, it was impossible for him to locate the ‘Mighty Nein’ on there until Shakäste pointed it out to him.

 

The Mighty  _ Nein _ . 

 

“And this… good luck, mein freund. That second part is Zemnian too?” He frowned, remembering when Shakäste had read the note aloud, and those words had confused him. Zemnian. 

 

Ugh! It was so familiar but he just couldn’t connect it to anything else. It was like trying to do a puzzle where you have all the pieces but none of them are fitting together properly. It just led to utter frustration. 

 

“Yes. My friend, it translates to. And nein means no.” 

 

“No? So… our groups name is The Mighty No?”

 

Shakäste chuckled again, with a bit more of unchecked glee than the first time. Still remarkably suave though. “Apparently so. Like I said, I believe it fits your group, based on my small experience with you.” 

 

Molly ran his tongue against the back of his teeth, thinking carefully. 

 

“Could you tell me about them? I don’t remember.” 

 

Shakäste shifted his position, going from leaning against a tree trunk to a cross-legged position, leaning forwards like he’d been waiting for this very question. 

 

“What would you like to know?” 

 

Well, there was  _ plenty  _ that he wanted to know. But there was only so much Shakäste would be able to tell him. 

 

“Their names first, and perhaps a brief description if you can. That might help. The note said Caleb, Nott and Beauregard. But you said there were about six of us?” Molly looked down at the note again, just to make sure he got the names right as Shakäste nodded, stroking his beard and looking thoughtful.

 

“Yes, those were three. Well, one of them went by Beau, not Beauregard, but I assume it’s a nickname. She’s a human, she had a loud voice, wore blue clothes and she very much enjoyed punching and kicking things.” 

 

Molly nodded slowly, digesting this information and filing it away. Then he thought a little longer and his head jolted upwards.

 

“Hang on, and I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re blind. How can you tell me what she looked like?” He asked. Shakäste just smiled.

 

“I am, but The Grand Duchess and I share a special connection. I can see through her eyes if I wish. It’s very useful when one tends to get into fights.” 

 

Seeing through the bird’s eyes? Just like a familiar.

 

Well, he supposed that’s exactly what it was. Another set of eyes, in nearly every animal imaginable. Hummingbirds, dogs, cats…

 

Molly frowned again, feeling something tug at his brain.

 

“Moving on, would you like me to continue?” Shakäste said, his expression unchanged. 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Let’s see. Nott was a little goblin girl, though I’m fairly certain you tried to pass her off as a halfling. She likes shiny things, probably an alcoholic, and she stole my coin purse.” He said casually.

 

“What? She stole from you?” Molly blinked twice.

 

“A habit of hers, I believe. Don’t worry, I got over it. Caleb… I believe he was the other human in your group. The Zemnian one, if he’s the one who wrote your note. Had a familiar of his own, though I never met it. Not very energetic.” 

 

“A magic user?” Molly asked, and Shakäste nodded.

 

“A wizard, though I’m not completely sure. I’m afraid I can’t tell you very much, it has been some time.” 

 

“Please, it’s alright. Your memory’s been phenomenal so far.” Molly said, even though he had no way of verifying if any of this was true at all. Shakäste could be making up complete lies and he’d never know, but he didn’t seem to be lying. 

 

And even if the information did  _ feel  _ like it might be right, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. 

 

“Hmm, you were just as flattering the first time I met you.” Shakäste smiled, catching Molly off guard.

 

He hadn’t even thought about asking what  _ he  _ had been like before then. He’d just assumed he’d been exactly the same, but with more memories. Perhaps he should ask about it.

 

But first, he wanted to know about the rest of the Mighty Nein. “I appreciate that. What about the others?”

 

“Let me think. One of them was very tall and green, he seemed to be your leader. Fjord, his name was. Quite well-spoken, handsome and a magic user as well. A warlock or sorcerer, if I had to guess. Terrible taste in puns.” 

 

Molly was nodding, counting off each person in his head as they were described. Beau, Nott, Caleb, Fjord. Counting himself, that was five. 

 

“Was that it?” He asked, and Shakäste shook his head. 

 

“There was one more, a blue tiefling. Very energetic, she liked the Grand Duchess very much. Her name was either Jessa or Jester, I’m afraid I’m not quite certain on which.” 

 

“Jester.” Molly said, with no clue on how he was certain but nonetheless absolutely sure. “It would have been Jester.” 

 

“Yes, that sounds about right. She was a lovely girl. A cleric, though with a bit more of a fighting streak than most clerics I’ve met.” 

 

“That’s all of them?” Shakäste nodded, and Molly was quiet, mulling over everything.

 

Beaureguard, or Beau. Human, wore blue clothes, liked punching things, loud voice.

 

Nott. Goblin, thief, likes shiny things, alcohol and stealing coin purses from people they were working with. 

 

Distantly, Molly realised he had no coin purse on him. Hmm. 

 

Caleb, also human. Zemnian, magic user, had an unknown familiar. 

 

Fjord, tall and green. Their leader, well-spoken, magic user, awful puns, apparently cute. 

 

Jester, blue tiefling. Energetic, likes animals, generally a nice person but a cleric who enjoys a fight apparently. 

 

He repeated it over and over again, trying to picture it in his mind. It all… it all sounded familiar, but something was still missing. He needed something else to make a full picture, one final piece before things made sense. 

 

“I apologise if you were hoping for more. Your group was a memorable bunch, but we did spend most of our time together in a mostly dark cave.” Shakäste said, shaking his head lightly. 

 

Molly looked down at his near empty bowl of stew that he’d been slowly eating during the conversation. “It’s fine, you’ve been a magnificent help. It just feels like there’s something I’m missing.” 

 

There was a silence, and neither man seemed sure of how to fill it. Finally, Shakäste cleared his throat, stroking his beard.

 

“Well, there may not be anything we can about that right now but give it some time. You need rest, I can take first watch.” He said, standing up and walking to the tent, which was fairly dilapidated but served its purpose. Of course, up until now it had only been home to one person, but Shakäste had firmly refused Molly’s offer to simply roll himself up in his tapestry when it came time to sleep.

 

“Are you sure?” 

 

Shakäste reached inside his cloak, pulling out Stacy, who fluffed up her feathers and chirped a few times. “Of course. It’s far harder for anyone to sneak up on us if we have a birds eye view.” He said, smirking. 

 

Molly watched as Stacey shook herself off before taking to the air, a humming sound filling the air before fading as she disappeared into the trees. 

 

“Alright then. But you wake me up when it’s my turn to take watch.” Molly said, shuffling into the tent.

 

“Don’t worry, I do enjoy my rest as well.” Shakäste said, dipping his head towards Molly. “Goodnight, Mollymauk.”

 

“Goodnight.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah Yasha wasn't around when the group was with Shakäste. So Shakäste doesn't know her, and thus can't tell Molly about her. Whoops.


	3. Grave Robbing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Molly finally thinks to look in his own pockets.

The air was warm, almost humid from the bodies packed in to the tent. 

 

Children and adults alike cheered and shouted, their voices muffled and indistinct. Music, bright and cheery and ever so loud pierced his ears and made it difficult to focus, everything around him blurred and surrounded by a halo of light.

 

A tang of smoke reached his nose, nearly overpowered by the sweet smells of candy and food that patrons had brought in. The smells stung his nose and only became stronger with each second. 

 

A strong presence - a powerful and tall person that felt like it should have brought about feelings of danger and fear, but instead only felt safe and comforting - stood just behind him, but no matter how much he turned around he could see nothing but a flicker of movement, a blur of someone who he knew so well but could no longer visualise in his mind. 

 

If only he could spin faster, perhaps he might see them - her - him? But no matter how fast he tried there was nothing, the presence, the  _ person _ , melting away and blurring into circles as he spun until they were gone completely, sounds drifting into nothing and smells vanishing until he realised they weren’t there anymore. 

 

_ Fuck you Lorenzo. _

 

The same words he had thought upon first waking up raced through his mind again, accompanied by a sharp pain in his chest. 

 

It was like someone was speaking them directly in his ear, the voice strained as warmth bloomed in his chest, spreading through to the rest of his body.

 

It got hotter and hotter like he was on fire - a fire so hot he could barely stand it, but never burning his skin.

 

The flames, red and yellow and blue and all other colours of the rainbow flew past him, taking shapes that may have been people for barely a moment before vanishing into nothing but fire again.

 

A scream pierced the air without him ever moving his mouth, increasing in intensity until he clamped his hands over his ears, shutting his eyes tight and curling into a ball.

 

This was a dream. 

 

A dream, or a nightmare, or  _ something.  _

 

It had to be. 

 

The screaming faded into nothingness, leaving him drifting in the void. Cold air pricked at his skin and he felt his clothes shifting in the air, floating as if he was flying weightlessly in the air. Hair brushed past his face in waves. He opened his mouth - to call out, what he wasn’t sure -

 

But no words could ever reach his throat as his mouth was suddenly filled with dirt.

 

Molly’s eyes flew open and he jolted, one hand rushing to his throat and pulling his legs to his chest.

 

“Molly?” Shakäste’s voice cut through Molly’s laboured breathing, the sound of someone shifting close by and light crackling of a fire. 

 

A dream. A nightmare. 

 

He gulped in great breaths of crisp, cold air that made his throat contract and sent shivers down his spine but at least he could breathe. 

 

There was no dirt. No more dirt or blood. Just air.

 

Just sweet, blissful, pure, incredible air. 

 

“Mollymauk, is everything alright?” Shakäste’s voice was even, like he already knew exactly what happened.

 

It probably wasn’t that difficult to guess.

 

He didn’t respond, pulling himself up into a sitting position and pinching his nose. After a few moments of just sitting and breathing and  _ existing  _ he crawled out of the tent, seeing Shakäste leaning against a tree trunk, looking in his direction with his cane resting on his lap. 

 

“I’m ready to take watch.” Molly said, looking into the fire. It had certainly gone down, and it looked like Shakäste had added some more wood to it at some point. 

 

Shakäste raised an eyebrow, but stood up anyway, Stacy letting out an annoyed chirp. 

 

“Take it easy on yourself, alright?” He said as he walked past Molly, patting him gently on the shoulder before sliding past him into the tent.

 

“I’ll do my best.” Molly said, smiling weakly as he gathered up his still-dirty tapestry and dragged himself to the tree that Shakäste had vacated, wearing the tapestry like a shawl and sighing heavily. 

 

Surrounding him was nothing but sounds of the forest, a comforting backdrop that distracted his mind from reliving the scream, the shouts, the cheers, the laughter.

 

For a minute he tried to look anywhere except at the fire, eventually pulling out the note from Caleb and rereading it for what must have been the twentieth time. He had each word committed to memory, even though if someone had asked him to read anything else he wouldn’t have been able to do it. 

 

It was odd. To think that he was following a note from people he couldn’t remember who had left his dead body buried in the ground, even though they apparently thought there was enough of a chance for him to come back without them being around that they left a note in the first place.

 

Given that scenario, his first instinct was to perhaps head in the exact  _ opposite  _ direction. No memories from whatever happened before his death? Who needs memories anyway? 

 

He could make his own life, start anew. Forget whoever Mollymauk Tealeaf was before his death. He could leave that person behind the dirt he was buried in. 

 

He didn’t have to follow the instructions from these people.

 

But he was.

 

He  _ wanted  _ to. 

 

Even though he couldn’t fathom the exact reason why. 

 

It might be because of Shakäste. He certainly seemed to think the Mighty Nein, and Molly himself, were decent people. They’d helped him defeat gnolls and rescue villagers, apparently. Alfield had hailed them as heroes. 

 

But that didn’t really matter much to Molly. Plenty of parties had defended towns and rescued people in the past. Molly could imagine it was a popular pastime for young people with money and time to spare and a thirst for adventure and glory. There was no shortage of monsters in the world for them to slay. 

 

No, those actions wasn’t what had him heading towards Zadash, though the knowledge that they were good enough to risk their skins to save strangers was certainly comforting. 

 

There was something about the people themselves. All five of them, even though they were nothing more than names, vague descriptions and a distant feeling of something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something comforting and warm. 

 

There were so many things he just couldn’t grasp, so many answers dangling out of his reach. 

 

Perhaps that was why he couldn’t leave it all behind. Why he couldn’t bring himself to tear up the note and start walking until he found somewhere exciting. 

 

The answers were too close. Those people, his memories were just too close for him to turn his back and ignore them. 

 

He leaned his head against the trunk of the tree, absentmindedly stroking the fabric of the tapestry with one hand and carefully refolding his note with the other. He tucked it carefully into the top inside pocket of his coat and, after a moment of thought, began feeling around for any other pockets.

 

He found quite a few, to his surprise.

 

He almost hadn’t thought about it until now, checking if he’d had any other possessions on him. He’d been too concerned about the ‘how am I still alive and also I can’t remember anything’ questions when he’d first woken up, and on the horse he’d just done his best not to fall off.

 

But now… now he was alone, and he had time. 

 

The first things he pulled out were two decorative glass scimitars. Twisting patterns were carved into the hilt, the glass translucent and with very faint marks of blood that had been wiped clean. Sharp, and probably a decent weapon despite being… glass. 

 

Molly had already known about those. He’d woken up to both of them attached to his hip, though there was another space for a weapon on his other hip that was bare. 

 

He spun one of them around, the movement easy and natural, if unnecessarily flashy, and his lips quirked upwards into a slight grin. Evidently he was proficient in these, and proficient in adding flair to it.

 

He placed the scimitars down on the ground next to him, one balanced on top of the other. Easily within reach should he need them, but nicely out of the way. Then he dove back into his pockets.

 

Quite a few of them were actually completely empty, which meant either he had few possessions to begin with, or Caleb, Nott and Beau (probably Nott, based on the information Shakäste had given him) had looted his body for whatever they must have thought was useful. 

 

Molly wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that possibility. On one hand, looting a dead body usually made sense. The living generally required possessions more often than the dead. On the other hand, they seemed to have assumed there was a more than possible chance of him returning to life. 

 

At least they’d left him the scimitars, he supposed. Perhaps they were heading into dangerous territory, and Molly had some particular valuable or item that could help them. 

 

Or perhaps they didn’t care for him at all and had only left the note to trick him into believing they did, when in fact they never intended to meet up with him again at all. Perhaps The Gentleman didn’t even exist. 

 

Perhaps they were really immoral cowards.

 

Molly certainly hoped not. 

 

The next thing he found in his pockets, a small one just underneath the one he put the note in, was a small pouch that might have been made out of leather.

 

It was difficult to tell since the outside of it was quite literally covered in the tiny multi-coloured gems. The best word Molly could think to describe it was bedazzled.

 

He certainly had a taste for the ridiculous, didn’t he. 

 

Inside the pouch was a light coloured power that had a ridiculously sweet, overpowering smell when he brought it up to his face. Incense, his mind supplied. It only took up a quarter of the space inside the bag, but now that he opened it the smell was everywhere, making him gag.

 

He quickly closed the bag and returned it back to its pocket, waving a hand in front of him to disperse the smell. There was only one other thing inside any of the pockets in his coat, a small silver brooch, about the length of his thumb and four fingers wide.

 

It depicted a dragon, coiling and twisting it’s way around a pentagonal outer rim, with tiny sigils carved into the rim and glitter dusting it. Unlike with the incense his brain didn’t immediately recognise what on earth it was. Given everything else in his possession it could be purely decorative, but perhaps it also doubled as an amulet or symbol for something. 

 

Or he could sell it, since he definitely had no coin purse. The gems on that incense bag might sell for something too, if they were genuinely valuable and not just fake. Though if he couldn’t tell the difference, others might not either. 

 

The rest of the pockets were empty, so Molly turned to a leather sack that hung from his belt. There were only two items in this as well, a small carved wooden box and an old, rusted helmet.

 

The helmet he turned over in his hands and tried to place on his head before realising it would never fit over his horns, begging the question as to  _ why  _ he had it in the first place. It was far too rusted to offer any semblance of protection even if it did fit, and he doubted anyone besides an absolute idiot would ever buy it off of him.

 

Then again, there was no shortage of absolute idiots in the world, he was sure. For now, he placed the helmet back in the sack. 

 

The wooden box had stains of varying colours on it and around the latch, mostly reds and greens and yellows. With a raised eyebrow, Molly opened the box to find an assortment of brushes, dyes and makeup, many of which had been opened and used at some point. The inside of the box was even more colourful and stained by the outside, and some of the brushes looked well-loved.

 

Molly stared down at the box, his eyebrows lowering into a deep frown. He picked up one small tube of an ugly greenish-colour cream, turning it over in his hand.

 

As he did so, a thought of an absolutely  _ nonsensical  _ plan popped into his head, completely unexpected and out of context. 

 

If he could create a convincing looking sore on his dick, he could most definitely sneak into a hospital using these. 

 

One second later, the tube was in the fire, having been thrown out of his hands like it was poison, the wooden box spilling on the ground with its contents scattering. Molly realised what he’d done and scowled, grabbing a nearby stick and trying to fish the tube back out. 

 

It took a few tries before he retrieved it, the material cracked and charred. A foul burning smell emanated from it and Molly cringed, placing the tube on the ground and gathering up everything else to return it to the box. 

 

Once he was done, he sighed deeply, trying to figure out what the  _ fuck  _ he’d just thought about. 

 

Sneaking into a hospital?

 

Through a disguise on his  _ dick? _

 

For a moment, Molly stared at the wooden box in disbelief. Then, he stifled a laugh. 

 

He couldn’t imagine a scenario in which that idea could ever work out in  _ anyone’s  _ favour, but if it was something he had come up with, he was sure it would have proven extremely hilarious. If just for the face of whatever poor soul had to see the results of it. 

 

An image of himself fumbling into a hospital, calling out for help and collapsing dramatically on the floor, to the horror and disgust of just about everyone else present, brought more laughter to the surface, and Molly couldn’t contain himself, bursting into pure, gleeful giggles.

 

He tried to keep it quiet for Shakäste’s sake but he couldn’t stop himself, his shoulders shaking as the imagined scenario became even more ridiculous in his head.

 

He could picture himself flailing on the ground, refusing assistance and recoiling from any doctor or guard who attempted to offer it.

 

_ You have no legal authority over me!  _

 

The words echoed in his head, and Molly’s giggles faded, as a sinking realisation set in. 

 

In his mind, he heard the coughs of terribly faked coughing and retching, a cat screeching. This was no imagined scenario. 

 

Holy fuck, he’d actually done that. And he’d  _ enjoyed it _ . 

 

Something clicked in his head, like Molly had been watching a person standing on stage in front of curtains, and now the curtains were being pulled away to reveal the true majesty of the play. 

 

_ Are you ready to make a damned fool of yourself? _

 

The voice reeked of barely contained laughter, the nervous energy of someone who knew perfectly well how absolutely ridiculous their plan was, but was in too deep to back out now and was giving it all he had. 

 

Fjord. 

 

_ I’m always ready to make a damn fool of myself. _

 

Molly’s own voice echoed back, and now the giggles were back again, because of all the fucking things to remember, he remembered himself and Fjord essentially pretending to be lepers to infiltrate a hospital for - well, he had no idea, but it probably hadn’t worked.

 

But damn, he’d been proud of his plan.

 

And Fjord had gone along with it. Fjord, the one who Shakäste had described as well-spoken, and the closest thing they’d had to leader. 

 

The leader of their group had willingly gone along with a scheme that involved painting someone’s dick.

 

Molly made up his mind right there. If the rest of the Mighty Nein were even half as chaotically glorious as that, he wanted back in on that action. 

 

If only he could remember what was missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow molly i wonder whats missing hmmmmmmmmmmmm i wonder what important thing or person you might be forgetting hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm


	4. Flowers and Firecrackers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Molly encounters a familiar town with familiar people.

The next morning, Shakäste didn’t mention anything that had happened the previous night, simply asking if anything had happened while Molly was on watch.

 

“Nothing particularly exciting at all.” Molly had said, kicking the ruined tube of greenish cream into the smoldering remains of the fire.

 

“Those are the best kinds of nights.” Shakäste gave him a wry smile, walking over to their horse and patting it on the neck.

 

“Indeed.” Molly stood up and stretched, folding up his tapestry.

 

Gods, he’d be pleased once he could get that cleaned. Maybe then he’d be able to figure out what the design was.

 

There was very little for them to pack up, and after a quick breakfast of simple rations that Shakäste brought out, they set off on their way. It didn’t take long for Shakäste to begin humming songs again, and this time Molly hummed along to the catchier ones. Stacy alternated sitting on Shakäste’s shoulder and flitting around them as they travelled, chirping in tune and once resting on one of Molly’s horns, pecking at it before quickly returning to Shakäste.

 

“She likes you.” Shakäste said, and Molly didn’t have to see him to know that he was smiling.

 

“I’m flattered. Did she like me the first time we met?” Molly asked, looking around lazily as the trees and road passed them by.

 

Shakäste ‘hmm’ed for a moment before speaking. “She thought you were a bit of a show-off. Still thinks that, but now you’re a good show-off.”

 

Molly scoffed good-naturedly. “Well, I like you too, Grand Duchess.” He said, and the bird responded with a high-pitched tweet, bobbing her head from where she currently rested on top of Shakäste’s hair. After a chuckle, the old man returned to humming, picking up in the middle of a simple, light-hearted tune that he’d done a few times before and was quite stuck in Molly’s head at this point.

 

Their travels were uneventful, passing a few parties and other travellers without incident. They received more than a few odd looks, and Molly could hear the whispers and murmurs that would certainly have followed a blind old man, a purple-skinned and blood-stained tiefling, and a hummingbird travelling on a single horse. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest, and he found it easy to ignore them.

 

Late afternoon rolled around, and Molly automatically went on the lookout for a place to camp. He found himself spotting places that would suit a far larger party than just him and Shakäste before he caught himself, quickly switching gears to looking for a smaller area.

 

But in the end it didn’t even matter, as trees gave way to fields and fields gave way to buildings and machines, roads converging towards a huge metal archway with the word ‘ _HUPPERDOOK_ ’ engraved in bold letters.

 

Molly’s eyes widened at the sight of chimneys spewing smoke, the sounds of screeching metal and sparks of electricity as they approached, a thin layer of soot turning the ground black and grey. Looking upwards he could see the top tier of the town carved and built from the side of the mountain, lights beginning to flicker on as the day gave way to night.

 

It was magnificent, yet Molly didn’t feel as surprised as perhaps he should have.

 

“I think I’ve been here before.” He said simply, still gazing at the town. Familiar as it may have been, it was still an incredibly uncommon sight.

 

“Perhaps you have. We may be simply retracing your party’s steps.” Shakäste said. “Let’s head to the inn, the nights here are quite spectacular.”

 

_Work hard, party hard. It’s what the city’s all about._

 

Beau.

 

Molly grinned as they passed through the industrial section of the town. “I’m sure they are.” He said, nodding to the gnomish guards and workers they passed on the way as they headed up the path to the upper tier of the town.

 

As they arrived they saw a stream of gnomish workers, along with the occasional dwarf, human or half-elf, begin to appear from their homes and businesses, many following Shakäste and Molly up the path as the workday came to a close. More lights switched on and happy voices rang out in the crowd, vendors beginning to set up shop in opportune places along the street. Steam whistles were going off around them, and Shakäste and Molly quickly found themselves climbing off their horse, Shakäste leading them to the closest inn and stable, at the Blushing Tankard.

 

Festivities were already in full swing by the time Molly and Shakäste got inside the inn, gnomes bustling to and fro, hollering out for drinks and cheering on dancers that moved from table to table, catching coins tossed at them in the air as another group took up a gnomish drinking song that soon had the entire room singing or shouting out the lyrics as the dancers moved and waved flags in time.

 

Molly was grinning the widest he ever had since he’d woken up, and Shakäste was smiling as well, managing to dodge the gnomes around him easily as they made their way to the bar.

 

The gnomish woman manning it raised an eyebrow when she saw them, but it quickly vanished into a wide grin as she held her arms up in welcome.

 

“Nice to see you again here!” She said, her voice light, though her eyes flicked around both Molly and Shakäste, as if looking for someone. They then trained on Molly. “If I may ask, where’s the rest of your delightful party? I’m afraid the Hour of Honour was quite a few days ago, if you’d wanted to have another crack at it.”

 

She winked, and Molly decided to ignore whatever the Hour of Honour was. He may not remember it, but he didn’t want to have to go around explaining that fact to everyone he met. It would only lead to more questions.

 

“Ah, not tonight. I’m afraid the rest of my party in engaged with business in another town, but I just had to return to this lovely establishment.” Molly found the lies and half-truths slid easily off his tongue, leaning forwards on the bar bench and smiling.

 

“We were looking for a room for the night, and if they’re as comfortable as you are beautiful, then we may even stay a second night.” Shakäste said. The woman smirked, clearly seeing right through their flattery but enjoying it immensely anyway.

 

It didn’t take long to pay for a room and order a round of drinks, allowing the two of them to be free to enjoy the rest of the night.

 

Molly was absolutely thrilled at the sights, wishing he had some money to toss to the dancers, but settling for flirting shamelessly with any that got close. After enjoying the dancing and singing inside the bar, he and Shakäste headed outside, where it was much the same, but with even more people and vendors ringing the outlines of the pavilions, offering their wares.

 

Fireworks streaked into the sky, gathering ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s with every explosion. Flower crowns and ribbons adorned heads in the crowd, and children ran gleefully with sparklers through the crowd, the sparks trailing behind them as they cheered.

 

Molly and Shakäste were taller than most people there, giving them a brilliant view of it all. Molly zipped from stall to stall, admiring people’s wares. There was one man selling small firecrackers, and Molly practically threw some of the gems from his incense bag at him because oh gods he had to have some of that, triumphantly showing off the small firecracker the man had given him to Shakäste. He found one girl selling bunches of flowers, trading one of the gems for one. The girl’s eyes widened at the pretty blue gem, thanking him before running off to show her father.

 

Molly had no idea why of all things, he’d decided to buy the flowers. Especially when there were more firecrackers about two steps to the left. But screw it, he thought to himself. They were pretty, he made a little girl happy, and now he had a bunch of flowers. He could figure out some meaningful reason for it later.

 

Tucking the flowers behind one of his horns to keep them safe, he returned to the party. Despite the cool nights the air was warm and electric, the lights and fireworks bright enough to make it seem like it was the middle of the day despite the stars shining above.

 

Molly was certain he’d been here before. The innkeeper recognising him only sealed the deal, but the very atmosphere was familiar. There were happy memories here in Hupperdook. Some tinged with bittersweetness, but also happiness. He wished he knew what they were, but the lingering emotions attached to them were enough for now.

 

But right now, he didn’t focus on it. He’d decided that he wanted to reunite with his friends, but he didn’t want to spend every waking moment dwelling on them, or his lost memories.

 

He was allowed to enjoy himself, damnit, and enjoy himself he _would_.

 

Shakäste seemed similarly inclined, smiling at the music and directing Molly to where there was one pavilion seemingly dedicated to circles of dancers surrounding a small gnomish band playings lutes, flutes and other instruments Molly couldn’t even recognise.

 

Outside of the circles was a cluster of humans and half-elves, too tall to join their gnomish and dwarvish brethren and instead linking hands together, going through the steps just as fluidly. A few others were clumsier, easily outing themselves as travellers and non-natives still learning the dance.

 

Molly’s grin grew even wider as he and Shakäste approached the group, allowing themselves to be drawn in with the rhythm of the crowd, following their movements. A few of those nearby noticed Shakäste’s eyes and appearence and seemed wary, taking extra care not to bump into him.

 

But as Molly had quickly grown used to, blindness was no hindrance and his age no barrier to enjoying himself, as he linked arms with the dancer closest to him, dragging a more than willing Molly into the group as well, laughter flowing freely from them both.

 

The other dancers quickly got over themselves as the song ended and the band struck up a new one, the residents of the town leading them all in the steps. They linked arms into a long line, weaving themselves around the other circles of dancers before separating to do a series of spins and steps too complicated for Molly to pick up immediately, but he got the general gist after a few times. It was thrilling, breeze whipping through his hair as he moved and the sheer freedom of being  _alive_ coursing through his entire body.

 

They must have gone through six different songs before they eventually pulled away, cheeks flush from the exertion and muscles starting to ache. It was hard to tell what time it is, but there were still people everywhere, content to party the night away.

 

They roamed the streets for just a while longer, Molly drinking in every scent, sight and sound.

 

That night he didn’t wake. His dreams stayed sweet, filled with pictures of what it might have been like the first time he’d been in Hupperdook, with the Mighty Nein. Faces were fuzzy, bodies outlined by a blurry halo of light that shifted and twisted. But he woke up the next morning with the taste of far too much alcohol on his lips, a drinking song in his ears and a smile on his face.

 

“To be quite honest, I wouldn’t mind staying here another night.” He said.

 

Getting to Zadash was still important, but if he could guarantee one more night full of sweet dreams, of happy memories, then he wanted it.

 

“We’ll need to restock our supplies anyway.” Shakäste said. “We’ve been going through them twice as fast as I’d anticipated.”

 

The pair quickly cleaned up their few belongings before heading downstairs, thanking the innkeeper (and flirting some more) before heading out into the morning streets.

 

The festivities of the previous night had all but vanished, the only remnants being the occasional streamer or trodden on flower lying on the ground. The citizens of Hupperdook had their routine down to an art, and if a traveller did not stay to see the night, they’d likely never realise the true nature of the town.

 

Instead, the streets before them were nearly deserted, those few around being travellers preparing to head on their way, or a few gnomes rushing to and fro running errands. As Shakäste asked the closest citizen for directions to various supplies shops, Molly took in a deep breath of air.

 

For someone who had been dead merely two days ago, he felt surprisingly chipper.

 

“Ah, there’s a collection of stores with relatively low prices along one of the side streets.” Shakäste returned, stretching his arms. “Are you any good at haggling?”

 

“I’ve absolutely no idea.”

 

“Splendid.”

 

And so the two set off towards the cheaper part of town, taking their time now and enjoying the fresh morning air. One of the first stores they came across was a gem-worker, and Molly took the opportunity to get the value of the gems on his incense pouch.

 

As it turned out, they weren’t exactly priceless. But they weren’t coloured glass either, and each one fetched a decent price in Molly’s opinion, since the current amount of money he had was zero. Molly sold about half of them, depositing the money into one of the pockets in his coat and winking at the gem-workers particularly attractive assistant on the way out.

 

Still, with his new coin Molly insisted on buying some of their supplies for the coming journey, since it was still quite a way to Zadash. They mostly bought food, and Shakäste bought some materials and components for various spells he may or may not need to cast, but for the most part they did a lot of window shopping.

 

Molly did buy some sort of trinket from just about every shop they entered, though. It was only polite, he told himself as he shoved a glitter-covered stamp from the bookstore into his pocket. He was ninety percent sure the owner’s daughter had used it for a crafts project and her father had simply shrugged and figured there might be some sucker out there who would buy it. He was right.

 

It was nearly noon by the time they reached the end of the street. Some of the buildings here looked a bit more worse-for-wear, but all displayed signs advertising their goods.

 

“Shakäste, there’s a butcher here.” Molly pointed towards one of the buildings, a small one that looked like someone had only recently starting a spring cleaning of the place. There were cracks in some of the brickwork and a pile of rubbish in the alleyway next door, but the front was clean and cheery, giving a welcoming aspect to the whole place.

 

“Oh, wonderful! Fresh meat will do us both good.” Shakäste said, looking slightly giddy at the prospect.

 

They entered the butcher together, Molly holding the door open for Shakäste and getting a cane in the ribs for his troubles.

 

He took it with a grin, closing the door behind him. A bell rang out, and a voice called out from somewhere deeper in the building with a ‘Coming! Just a second!’.

 

“No problem!” Molly called back just to give the owner some peace of mind, looking around.

 

The inside of the butchery had much the same impression as the outside, that of a place that had gone through some rough times but was finally getting back in action. A counter stood in the middle of the room, with benches on either side and various meats hanging up. The stock wasn’t particularly numerous, but it still looked appetising.

 

A door behind the counters opened, obviously leading to a living quarters behind it. Emerging was a young gnome, a boy with long curly red hair. The boy did a double-take when he saw them - Molly had quickly gotten used to that, a combination of their height over most of the residents and the sheer absurdity of their appearance.

 

But rather than either get over himself or continuing to stare, the boy burst into a huge grin.

 

“Might Nein! You’re back!”

 

Molly blinked, and he exchanged a look with Shakäste, who seemed just as surprised.

 

But the boy, who obviously didn’t quite remember Molly’s actual name but seemed well-acquainted with him nonetheless, was on the other side of the counter in an instant and latching onto his leg, still calling out to whoever else was in the building that the Mighty Nein (or one of them at least) had returned.

 

Hmm. Well, this was happening, he supposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inevitable. This is also currently the happiest and lightest of all the chapters I've written so far since it's just Molly and Shakäste goin to Hupperdook and having a good time.  
> Cause Molly deserves some happy fun times dancing at midnight and buying flowers.


	5. The Schuster's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Molly encounters his past.

It only took a moment for Molly to get over the surprise of having a child not only recognise him but attach himself to his leg. After that, his mind was instantly filled with questions, but two main ones.

 

Firstly, how did this kid know him.

 

Secondly, what could he _tell_ him.

 

Of course, finding the answers involved explaining what happened, which could end up more complicated than it was worth. So his first instinct after sorting through those questions was to bluff like there was no tomorrow.

 

“Jude! What-” An gnome who must have been the boy’s father burst through the door, exasperation on his face fading to surprise when he saw Molly and Shakäste. Then he looked down at his son. “Jude! Get off of him!”

 

“Oh, it’s alright.” Molly said, not quite sure how he actually felt about this but not about to ruin the boy’s fun.

 

“Still, it’s impolite.” The father said, looking down sternly at his son before smiling up at Molly. “But what brings you back here? We’re always happy to see you, of course, but it’s so soon.”

 

Molly heard a muffled squawking sound before the door opened again, more creatures running out. His other leg was quickly attacked by a girl smaller than Jude, while two teenagers hung back with their mother, all beaming.

 

Most curious, however, was the final member who had emerged, a small, scruffy bird-person, barely shorter than the younger teen and wearing a green cloak. They clambered up on top of the bench, but Molly could see their feathers quite literally deflate, disappointment never so clear as they looked around Molly, searching for someone - or multiple someones - who weren’t there.

 

“Ah, yes.” Molly said, legs now pinned to the floor where he stood by two excited children but still maintaining an image of decorum. “Well, it’s a rather long story.”

 

“What about the rest of your party? If you need somewhere to rest, you’re welcome to come in.” The mother said, gesturing behind her to the rest of the building.

 

“Oh no, we couldn’t impose.” Molly held up his hands, feeling slightly overwhelmed by how excited this whole family was to see him. But at the same time, it was nice too.

 

“Are you just here to see Kiri again?” The elder teen asked, her head tilted. One of the children on his legs gasped.

 

“Are you going to take her back?”

 

Molly looked towards the bird child, presumably the Kiri they were talking about. “Ah, no?”

 

Kiri had hopped off of the counter, now walking around Molly and Shakäste, still looking around. After circling them twice, she stopped in front of Molly, her feathered hands on her hips, and squawking in his face.

 

“Kiri, that’s not polite!” The mother said, looking exasperated. Molly glanced helplessly at Shakäste, who cleared his throat, attracting everyone’s attention.

 

“My apologies, I don’t think I’ve made your acquaintance, though my companion Molly here obviously has.” He said pointedly.

 

“Oh, of course! We’re the Schuster’s.” The father said, looking embarrassed. “I’m Wallace, this is my wife Gilda, and our children, Gail, Austin, Jude, Layla and Kiri. The Mighty Nein helped us all when they were last here.”

 

“They got Mom and Dad out of jail!” Jude announced. Molly tried to stop his eyes from widening.

 

Out of jail?

 

“They weren’t mad at us when we stole all their money.” Layla said solemnly, hugging Molly’s leg tighter.

 

Stole all their money?

 

“And they gave us Kiri!” Austin said, gesturing happily in the direction of the bird child.

 

Gave them a bird? Okay, that one was mostly just strange.

 

“That’s true!” Kiri opened her mouth, but instead of a squawk coming out, it was a strained, high-pitched and gravelly voice, like someone who was two steps away from losing their voice. This time Molly couldn’t conceal his surprise. He knew that voice. He knew it… but he didn’t know who it was.

 

If the Schuster’s noticed, they didn’t say anything. But Kiri definitely did, letting out a ‘You suck!’ that sounded exactly like Jude, and earning another admonishment from Gilda and giggles from the boy she had imitated.

 

“Where’s the rest of the Mighty Nein?” Gail asked. “Are they out shopping?”

 

“Ahh…” Molly’s voice trailed off, as the whole family looked at him expectantly. “Not quite.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“They’re not with me.” Molly shrugged like it was no big deal, and the children couldn’t contain their sigh of disappointment.

 

Wow, he certainly still felt popular. It was just because they also wanted to see the others, he told himself. Yes. That was it.

 

“They’ve got other business… elsewhere. I’m headed to Zadash with my companion Shakäste here.” Molly said, gesturing towards the man, who dipped his head in acknowledgement.

 

“Are you blind?”

 

“Layla!”

 

“Are you like, a million years old?”

 

_“Jude!”_

 

Shakäste smiled, his patience with children seemingly endless. “Why, yes, I am.”

 

“Which question are you saying yes to?” Molly asked, one eyebrow raised. Shakäste just shrugged.

 

“I’ll allow them to decide.”

 

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

 

“Three.” There were twin gasps.

 

“You _are_ a million years old then!”

 

Molly snickered, before his attention was caught by Wallace beginning to talk.

 

“In any case, you are both completely welcome to stay the night if you need to. It's the least we can do, after everything you did for us.” He said.

 

Shakäste looked pointedly at Molly, leaving the decision up to him. Honestly? He wasn’t sure. Staying would probably result in more questions that would eventually reveal Molly knew far less than he should.

 

On the other hand… the Schuster’s might know something helpful that could help him remember. Plus, they'd been planning to stay another night anyway.

 

That cinched the decision, and Molly nodded, getting cheers from the children - and a mildly interested squawk from Kiri.

 

“But before we leave tomorrow I will be buying something.” He said sternly. “And I _will_ be leaving a tip.”

 

“You really don’t have-” Molly held up a finger, interrupting them.

 

“Nope, I’m doing it.”

 

“Molly! Molly! Come inside! We’ve cleaned up since you left!” Jude and Layla finally let go of Molly’s legs, in favour of dragging him towards the back on the shop. He let himself be led by the children, inwardly deciding the best way to explain the… whole situation. He didn’t come up with much of a plan.

 

Eh, who needs one. He’d figure it out.

 

Jude and Layla gave him a brief tour of the bottom floor from the building, intending to take him up to the top floor before their parents insisted they ‘leave the poor man’ alone, since he’d obviously been through a lot.

 

They then turned their attention to Shakäste, who seemed happy to entertain them by constantly guessing (correctly) the numbers of fingers they were holding up, and then by bringing out The Grand Duchess, who flew happily over their heads, clearly enjoying the attention.

 

The only exception was Kiri, who stubbornly alternated between narrowing her eyes at Molly and looking back towards the entrance to the shop, as if the rest of the Mighty Nein might walk through at any moment.

 

“Have you been well?” Molly turned around to see Gilda standing there, as Wallace corralled the children.

 

“Oh yes, I’ve been doing wonderfully.” It wasn’t a lie. Compared to being dead, his current circumstances _were_ wonderful.

 

Still, Gilda looked him up and down, unconvinced. “We have a bathroom if you need it. You look like you’ve been through a lot.”

 

Molly looked down at himself, taking in the still blood-stained and dirty clothes. Hmm, okay maybe that was a problem he should fix at some point.

 

“Ah, I suppose so.” He said, pausing and considering his next words carefully. “I do have another favour to ask, though it’s a bit of a story.”

 

A worried look crossed Gilda’s face and she looked down at him again, as if the bloodstains were taking on an even more sinister meaning. She nodded, gesturing towards another room. But Molly shook his head. Eh, chances were they’d figure it out anyway (especially Kiri) so he might as well tell them all now.

 

He cleared his throat, taking a few tries to catch everyone’s attention. Once he had it, he quickly launched into a very brief recap of the most important events.

 

He’d died, Shakäste had resurrected him, but he’d lost all his memories. He wasn’t sure where the rest of the Mighty Nein were or _how_ they were, but they’d left him a note telling him to go to Zadash to find the Gentleman.

 

“I don’t suppose you know who the Gentleman is?” He asked as he finished the story. The children, who had thus far restrained themselves from asking questions, gaped at him, an expression matched by their parents.

 

“Don’t know where they are.” Kiri recovered first, flapping her wings and rushing up to him. It took a moment for Molly to get over the recognition of the voice she was speaking in, and that it was his own. Still, though his tone of voice had been rather smooth, when Kiri repeated it her frantic gestures made it seem far more nervous than he’d intended.

 

So that, combined with the context that Kiri had apparently been a part of the Mighty Nein at some point - though Shakäste hadn’t recognised her, made Molly think she was talking about the others, not the Gentleman.

 

“I’m afraid not.”

 

“So, you don’t remember us either?” Layla had her hands on her cheeks, horror all over her face.

 

“Sorry, though it’s nice to hear we were able to help you.”

 

“You don’t remember Kiri?”

 

“No. Sorry, Kiri.” He got a distressed chirp in response.

 

“We have to fix it! Is there a way to fix it?” Gail asked, looking to her parents, who still seemed stunned.

 

“A Greater Restoration might do it, but there’s no way to be sure, and I can’t do it, so we don’t have many other options.” Shakäste said. “Seeing another cleric might involve questions, which could lead to trouble.”

 

The two adult gnomes glanced at each other and nodded, intimately aware of the trouble carelessness could breed.

 

“Well, if there’s any way we can help, we will. Just say the word.” Wallace said, his wife nodding firmly next to him.

 

Molly chuckled nervously, honestly a bit surprised he’d made it this far. “Thank you for the offer. But right now, I think any information on my friends that you could give me would be helpful. It might jog my memory.”

 

For a split second, the family digested that request, before they flew into action. Layla and Jude declared they’d go get paper and pencils for drawing, Kiri vanished without so much as a squawk, and the others quickly ushered both Molly and Shakäste into a dining room, sitting them down at the table - which was slightly uncomfortable on the gnomish-designed chairs, but he didn’t say anything. Gilda insisted on some tea while they told the story, waiting for the children to return.

 

They did, Layla with sheafs of paper, some blank and some already drawn on, and Jude carrying pencils. Kiri had a small bundle with her that she deposited on the table, taking a seat directly opposite Molly and staring him down from the distance.

 

“Look! I have drawings!” Layla started them off, shoving a few drawings in his face. They were simplistic, little more than different coloured blobs with clothes on them. But they also had names written above them, and Molly accepted the drawings anyway.

 

“They’re wonderful, thank you.” He said, picking up the first piece of paper.

 

It depicted all of them, standing in a line with stick arms raised in the air in triumph. The first thing Molly noticed was small black blob with the word ‘Kiri’ scrawled next to it, floating in the top corner of the page. It made him smile.

 

Going from left to right, Molly looked over each blob-person.

 

The first was small and green, with a strange shape in one hand that may have been intended to be a crossbow. Nott. Though Layla had spelled it ‘Not’.

 

As he looked over them, the older gnomes began to tell their story.

 

“First it started when we got Layla to steal all your money.” Gail said matter-of-factly, making Molly’s jaw drop.

 

“Jester gave me a silver.” Layla said, nodding and producing a small silver coin from her pocket. “I didn’t steal _her_ money.”

 

She pointed to a medium sized blue blob that was wearing a bright pink dress next to Nott, a big smile drawn on her face and ‘Jester’ written above like a rainbow.

 

“We needed it cause Mom and Dad were in jail.” Austin said, wincing as his sisters spoke about the theft in such casual tones. “Also you had way more than we were expecting and you went after us.”

 

“It was _super_ scary at first.” Jude said, though none of them seemed particularly traumatised. Molly just nodded along, looking at a darker green blob with ‘Mr Ford’ written on top. “Beau dropped in from the ceiling!”

 

“Did they know you’d done it?” Shakäste asked, one eyebrow raised.

 

“I don’t think so.” Gail said. “You all seemed really surprised when you saw us.”

 

“Perhaps we were just impressed a young girl managed to steal all our money.” Molly said, before noticing for the first time the slightly pained look on the parents faces. “Of course, you shouldn’t be doing that, and I expect you don’t have to anymore?”

 

“Nope! Cause you got Mom and Dad out of jail!” Jude cheered, pointing happily in the direction of his parents.

 

“Ah, yes, you mentioned that before.” Molly said. “Please, could you tell me why you were in jail in the first place?”

 

“False idol worship.” Wallace said, shrugging lightly. “We got caught worshipping one of the unapproved gods and… well, it’s a major offense around here.”

 

Molly frowned. That seemed like a rather ridiculous law, though it made him feel better about the whole getting people out of jail thing. If they’d been _actual_ criminals he might have felt conflicted. Perhaps. It was hard to say.

 

He looked back at the drawing, noting the blue and brown figure with a long stick named ‘Bo’, standing next to a red and brown figure named ‘Caleb’.

 

“So… how exactly did I- we get you out of jail?” He asked, using his limited knowledge of the adventures the Mighty Nein had been on to imagine all sorts of ridiculous plans.

 

“You paid the bail.”

 

Or they could have done it a perfectly legal and normal way.

 

“Ah.” Part of him was almost disappointed there was no complicated and absurd heist they could tell him about. Thinking about the disguise kit still sent a shiver down his spine.

 

“Apparently first you defeated some kind of spinning robot death machine?” Gilda said, frowning.

 

There it is.

 

“And then you brought them back here and you gave us Kiri and some money and then you left!” Layla announced.

 

Molly looked at Layla for a second, before looking down the table at Kiri. She had yet to say a word or give a single squawk throughout the explanation, her wings folded across her chest and her small bundle in front of her.

 

He squinted at her, trying to figure out her deal. Was she just upset that he didn’t remember her? Maybe they hadn’t had the best relationship before the whole ‘death’ thing. Maybe she was just disappointed he didn’t know where the others were.

 

He opened his mouth to ask Kiri some questions, his eyes flickering back down to the drawing. His own figure was next to Caleb, a purple blob with a bright coat that was just a scribble of seemingly every colour the children could get their hands on. His figure had no name written above it, but Molly didn’t have time to wonder about it. Because that wasn’t the end.

 

A seventh figure stood next to him, barely managing to fit on the space between it and the end of the paper. It was bigger than nearly all the others except Fjord’s, black and white. It looked a bit like a ghost, to be honest. Bright pink and purple flowers were scribbled at their feet, and Molly was suddenly hyper aware of the flowers he’d bought last night, rumpled and slightly wilted but still tucked behind his horn.

 

Shakäste had said there were only six members of the Mighty Nein when he’d met them.

 

The name ‘Yasha’ was scrawled above the figure.

 

Molly’s brain froze for a second.

 

_Yasha._

 

Waves of shock and shame rushed over him, forgetting about everyone else as realisation dawned. He knew something had been missing. He knew some _one_ had been missing. He’d felt it deep within his bones but there was so much missing - so many people he’d forgotten - he’d just assumed, or hoped, it wasn’t important.

 

But it was Yasha. There was no flood of memories from the realisation, nothing but the remembrance of her existence, flashes of black and white in his mind, and a deep sense of familiar safety.

 

Of all the members of the Mighty Nein, why was she the one he remembered last?

 

“Molly?” Shakäste’s voice cut through his inner thoughts berating him for not remembering sooner. For not realising there was such an important piece missing from the puzzle.

 

If there were tears in his eyes - there weren’t, he told himself stubbornly - no one said anything, as he placed the drawing on the table, turning it around so everyone else could see it the proper way around. He took a deep breath, before pointing at Yasha’s figure and speaking.

 

“Thank you for telling me all of this. But what can you tell me about her?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molly has no name above Layla's drawing because Layla got most of the names from Kiri (most of the Mighty Nein didn't really introduce themselves by name to The Schuster's) and Kiri couldn't be bothered telling them Molly's name because Kiri's petty. I love her.


	6. Ok, ok, ok.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Molly discovers the uses of mimicry.

“Ok, ok, ok.” Yasha was the first one to speak, almost giving Molly whiplash from how quickly his head whipped towards the source of the words.

 

But it Kiri. Kiri who had spoken, not Yasha. But using Yasha’s voice. That Molly had recognised. He sincerely doubted it was possible for him to become any more stunned than he already was. 

 

“Yasha was awesome!” Jude said, standing up on his chair. “She was tall and big and pretty and  _ awesome _ !”

 

Kiri repeated the phrase she’d said, narrowing her eyes like she was trying to think of another. Molly shook his head, breaking out of his stupor. 

 

“Kiri, you travelled with us, right? With the Mighty Nein?” He asked. 

 

“Welcome to the Mighty Nein!” Kiri puffed out her feathers, using the scratchy strained voice she’d used before. Now that Molly was paying attention to the specific voices, he  _ knew  _ he recognised it. 

 

“Is-Is that Nott?” 

  
“Yes!” This time Kiri spoke in a higher-pitched voice, more feminine than Nott’s.

 

“Is that Jester?” 

 

“Yes!” Kiri repeated it, seeming a little happier than she had been before. Molly laughed weakly. So it seemed his best source of information was now a bird child who could only repeat things people had said before.

 

But he could hear his friends. He could hear their voices, even if it wasn’t them saying it. Not just in his mind, not in a dream, but for real. 

 

“What about Caleb?” Molly asked. Kiri paused for a moment, thinking. 

 

“Yeah, she’s a pretty good egg.” She said, the voice low, quiet and with a hint at an accent. Molly felt his grin widen, trying to commit every syllable to memory.

 

“Fjord?”

 

“It’s an amphibious assault.” Fjord’s voice was deep, and Molly could only guess at the context, but the words sent the gnomish children into fits of giggles.

 

“Beau?”

 

Kiri paused for a moment, before getting the smuggest look a bird could probably muster. “Fuck!”

 

Wallace and Gilda spat out the tea they’d been drinking, Shakäste barely managing to restrain himself from doing the same, and the children fell into absolute hysterics. The laughter was infectious, and Molly was jubilant. 

 

“ _ KIRI!”  _

 

“Yes, that sounds like Beau.” Shakäste said, nodding solemnly. 

 

“She sounds like an unpleasant one.” Molly said, even though he most certainly wasn’t serious. 

 

“She was kinda funny.” Jude said. “And scary.” 

 

“And she gave us money.” Layla piped up, scribbling a new drawing on a blank piece of paper. “Looooots of money.” 

 

Molly snorted. “Alright, so that’s their voices.” 

 

Kiri chirped happily, undoing her bundle and revealing two items. The first was a dagger in a leather sheath, which Kiri pulled off so she could show off the blade within, waving it around with all the vigor of someone who had owned it for a few weeks and was now completely confident in their ability to wield it without chopping anyone close by. 

 

“Kiri, please. What have we told you about the dagger?” Wallace said, sighing. 

 

“Don’t wave the dagger.” Kiri parrotted back, a perfect imitation of Wallace, even as she stood up, tucking the other item - a small wooden box - under her arm and walking over to Molly, holding up the dagger to his face.

 

Molly reached to take it from her hands but she pulled back, giving off one warning squawk. Alright then, no touching the dagger. He settled for looking at it closely. It did seem familiar, though only in a vague way. Basic daggers did tend to look the same anyway. 

 

“Did we give this to you?” He asked, looking at Kiri.

 

“It’s sharp.” She replied, in Fjord’s voice.

 

“Ah, Fjord gave it to you?” He asked. Kiri nodded. “He gave a dagger to a small child?”

 

Kiri’s eyes narrowed. “I killed people.” She said, in a feminine voice Molly didn’t recognise, but the image of a woman with long, stringy black hair flashed in his mind for a split second, any other details about her remaining stubbornly hidden from view.

 

“Alright then. What about that box?” 

 

Kiri looked down at the box, placing the dagger down on the table (whereupon Wallace quickly grabbed it and placed it back in its sheath) and holding the box in both hands. She wound up a small screw, before letting it go. The lid opened up, and a sweet melody began to fill the air. 

 

Everyone quieted, listening carefully. Molly could feel the Schuster’s eyes on him, waiting for something. A reaction? For him to remember something? He wasn’t sure. 

 

He knew the tune. He’d definitely heard it before. But nothing clicked. Not like seeing the disguise kit, not like seeing Yasha’s name. It was a nice tune, and the music box and dagger were obviously important to Kiri, based on how carefully she handed the former and how happily she waved around the latter, but to Molly? It didn’t seem to do anything.

 

Still, he smiled softly as the tune petered out, Kiri closing the lid and looking up at him expectantly. 

 

“Thank you, Kiri. That was lovely.” 

 

Kiri nodded. “I am Kiri!” She said in Jester’s voice, and Molly’s smile widened. 

 

“What else is there?” Austin asked, frowning and looking around. “There has to be a way to help you remember things.” 

 

“We’ll be here all day. You have plenty of time to go into far more detail to your encounters with the Mighty Nein.” Shakäste said, seeming quite entertained by the entire conversation, and content to mostly stay out of it. 

 

“I’m afraid we need to man the shop. If either of you need anything, please let us know.” Wallace said, standing up, Gilda copying. “Children, remember to be polite.”

 

“Yes Dad!” Was the chorused reply, even from Kiri, imitating one of the boys. 

 

Both parents left, leaving Molly and Shakäste to the whims of the children. 

 

Somehow Molly ended up spending four hours drawing pictures with Kiri, Layla and Jude, as Austin and Gail had to zip back and forth between checking on the younger children and assisting with the butchery or running errands for their parents. Shakäste left for some time to make sure they hadn’t left anything out of their shopping but soon returned, happily modelling in a few different poses so the children could draw him as well. 

 

Their drawing skills left something to be desired, but Molly hardly cared. By the end of it Molly had about a dozen recognisable drawings of the Mighty Nein, about two each, and Shakäste had a small pile of his own. The entire time Layla and Jude kept up a steady stream of conversation, starting with how awesome the Mighty Nein was and how they’d totally made a spinny death robot explode, before shifting into school stories and how other residents had reacted to Kiri essentially appearing out of thin air as a new member of the Schuster family. 

 

Apparently they still got odd looks, but most citizens were more inclined to mind their own business, so the mimicking bird child with a dagger was now a citizen of Hupperdook. The Schuster’s were even looking into getting her proper identification papers, to make it official. 

 

Kiri seemed happy, chirping along with Layla and Jude and mimicking phrases from various members of the Mighty Nein as often as she could. It seemed she could only remember so many at a time, as she repeated some a lot, the vast majority from Jester, though now that Wallace and Gilda were occupied, phrases with various curse words popped up with great frequency. 

 

“Did you swear like this before you met us?” Molly asked, smirking down at the bird. She’d settled down from her previous hostility, the both of them falling into an easy routine of simply snarking at each other at any opportunity. Or, Molly snarked at her while Kiri swore at him and reminded him that she had most definitely killed people.

 

Oh, Molly would like to see the day when this bird child killed something larger than her fist. He wished he remembered her time with them so he knew if she was telling the truth or not. 

 

“Yes.” Kiri said in Jester’s voice, nodding. 

 

“Really.” Molly said, nodding as well. “So can you say any swear words from people  _ other  _ than the Mighty Nein?” 

 

For a moment, Kiri thought carefully, before narrowing her eyes, fluffing up her feathers in indignation and pointedly scribbling a very unflattering picture of Molly. Molly, having already collected about three other pictures of himself from Kiri in far worse quality than drawings of the others, simply looked over it critically. 

 

“I have never seen my likeness captured so beautifully.” Molly deadpanned. There was something mildly amusing in irritating Kiri. Probably because she set herself up for it constantly, and she almost seemed to expect it from him. He wouldn’t do it with Layla or Jude, for example. 

 

But Kiri was apparently a former member of the Mighty Nein, and that seemed to come with experiences that gave one a thick skin. It might have been mildly worrying that a young child had done it, but she seemed to have come through quite unharmed, untraumatized, and only slightly corrupted.

 

A loud whistled signaled the end of the work day, and the children began to pack away, Jude running off to tell his parents something (and avoid doing any packing up himself) while Layla insisted on convincing their parents to go out for the night in celebration of Molly (and Shakäste) staying with them. As it turned out, their parents had already decided to do it anyway, much to the children’s delight, running off to grab coats and pocket money in case they wanted to buy something. 

 

So off they went. The night life was very similar to their first night there, though they didn’t do as much with five children in tow. Once they all realised that Molly’s clothes still looked like he’d crawled out of his grave ten minutes ago they spent thirty minutes tracking someone down who could clean them up with a spell, and Molly made sure to pay him generously for the trouble, running back to grab his tapestry so they could get that clean as well. 

 

But after that it was far nicer. The children all raced around, apparently having the same unspoken idea of buying all manner of trinkets for Molly and Shakäste, as if their hospitality, stories and drawings weren’t already enough. 

 

By the time they were walking home, Molly had two flower bands (one on each horn), a bright blue ribbon tied to the end of his tail, half a dozen assorted flowers braided into his hair by Gail, and a small rainbow striped painted rock that Jude declared to be absolutely magical even though it had only cost one copper. Shakäste hadn’t escaped the braiding either, although of course he only looked even more attractive.

 

“I am Kiri!” As they walked home, Kiri had ended up walking alongside Molly behind the rest of the family, even though there was still a good one person gap in between them. Shakäste walked a few steps ahead, chatting with Gail about some of his solo adventures.

 

“Mmhmm.” Molly said, twirling a flower in his hand. “That you are, little bird.”

 

Apparently not the answer she was looking for, Kiri repeated the phrase more insistently, grabbing Molly’s attention. He looked in her direction, and for a moment the two of them just looked at each other. 

 

“Are you upset I don’t remember you?” Molly asked, tilting his head and keeping his voice low. 

 

After another moment’s pause, Kiri answered, still in Jester’s voice. It hadn’t taken long for Molly to figure out that she was by far Kiri’s favourite. “Yes, I am very sweet.”

 

“If it makes you feel better, I would like very much to be able to remember you.” 

 

“Really?” Layla’s voice parroted back at him sweetly, Kiri’s eyes wide. 

 

“Yes. I’d like to remember you. Any adventures we had while you were with us.” Molly sighed. “You’ve been a great help to me. I wouldn’t have remembered Yasha if it weren’t for you and the Schuster’s.”

 

“Ok, ok, ok.”  Molly chuckled at the phrase now, the only one of Yasha’s that Kiri seemed to have retained. It felt like it made sense, even though there was a pang of disappointment each time. Yasha was a woman of few words. It was all he had, so he held onto it tight. 

 

“You’ve been a great help to me.” Kiri said in Molly’s own voice, before he could say anything else to continue the conversation. 

 

“So I’ve been told. Though are you talking about just me or the rest of the Mighty Nein?” He asked.

 

“The rest of the Mighty Nein.” Kiri said immediately.

 

Molly had to stifle a laugh. “Ah, someday you and I might be able to consider each other friends.” He said, patting her gently on the head. 

 

“Someday.” Kiri echoed, adding almost a warning tint as her feathers ruffled up and she shook Molly’s hand away. 

 

“Ah, I’m so pleased to have you met you again.” Molly said, leaving Kiri free to wonder about what exactly that meant. He wasn’t quite sure himself, but he’d probably figure it out eventually. 

 

Once they returned home, Wallace and Gilda sent the three younger children to bed immediately despite protests. Molly still got two hugs and (from Kiri) one long stare ended with a nod, while Shakäste got three hugs before they went upstairs, while Austin and Gail set up their living room with bedrolls, blankets and pillows for them. 

 

“Well this day was unexpectedly productive.” Shakäste said once all the Schuster’s had gone to bed, leaving him and Molly alone downstairs. 

 

“Indeed it was.” Molly felt oddly… at peace. He knew he still remembered very little, but now that he’d been reintroduced, in a way, to all the other members of the Mighty Nein… it felt like he was on his way to really remembering who he was. 

 

“I apologise for not knowing about Yasha. She wasn’t among you while I was with you.” Shakäste said.

 

“It’s fine. She does that.” Molly hesitated for a moment. “I’m pretty sure, anyway. I’m more disappointed in myself I didn’t realise there was someone missing.”

 

“Baby, you died and lost your memories. You’re forgiven for forgetting there was another member of your group.” Shakäste said, calm and sure of himself. He always was, and it was both reassuring and slightly irritating because a tiny part of Molly just wanted to wallow in self-pity a little bit.

 

But nope. Shakäste just made too much sense. Self-pity was for fools. It wasn’t his fault. 

 

\-------------

 

He was back in the tent. Music loud, children cheering. The sounds were muffled, distant, the air hot and cold at the same time, prickling at his skin like tiny needles over and over again. 

 

But standing next to him was Yasha. This time he knew for certain, and he couldn’t help but smile. 

 

They stood there, watching as fire danced in the ring, expertly controlled and drawing shouts of delight and awe from the crowd. Molly and Yasha stood near an exit, shadows cast on them from the stands.

 

It’s you, was the first thought in his head. But he didn’t say it. He couldn’t say it, his mouth frozen shut and his body almost not his own. He was there, he could see, but he couldn’t move it. He was merely an observer, a guest in his own memory. 

 

His former self glanced up in the direction of Yasha. Her face was still fuzzy and blurred, like it had been put through five different filters until it was unrecognisable. Her hair was long and straggling, shifting between black and white and all shades of grey. But it was her, and he  _ knew  _ it was her. It was better than anything else he’d had so far. 

 

Yasha seemed to feel his eyes on her, her gaze flickering down to him. Her head turned away, but the former Molly didn’t, and after a few seconds she looked down at him again.

 

“Do you need something?” Her voice was slightly unsure, her arms folded across her chest.

 

“No. Just seeing how you like the show. It’s been a while since we’ve had a newcomer.” Molly heard his former self speak, the voice bright and confident, full of pride. 

 

“It’s nice.” Yasha said, her head looking back towards where fire continued to spew in the ring. “Who was the last newcomer?”

 

“Me.” Molly said simply. “A year and seven months ago.”

 

“Oh.” Was all Yasha said at first. “Why did you join?”

 

Molly felt himself shrug. “A variety of reasons. I’ll have to explain them to you later. You?” 

 

This time Yasha shrugged. “I owe Gustav. And there’s not many other places to go.”

 

Molly wondered how long ago this was. A few weeks? A month? Had all of the Mighty Nein been here? Not quite, he thought. This tent felt separate, another time, another era. This tent was his and Yasha’s, not the others. 

 

“Well, if you pitch in, you’ll always have a place here.” His former self continued to speak.

 

It felt like this tent might have been home at some point. 

 

“Thank you.”

 

Not any longer, he supposed. Home was something else now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well episode 29 (as amazing as it was, I loved it) has thoroughly murdered any possible canonicity of this fic. I'm gonna keep going anyway because I'd figured it would happen eventually. Yayyyyyyyy


	7. Hellos and Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Shakäste has a story.

“Remember, you’re always welcome to come back here if you need to.” Gilda said, packing another packet of rations onto Molly’s new horse. 

 

“Can’t you stay another day?” Layla whined, sitting on her father’s shoulders. “We can draw more pictures!”

 

“I’m afraid not, my dear. But we’ll make sure to return someday, and you can show us all the drawings you do in the meantime.” Shakäste said, smiling fondly from his horse and enjoying the room he now had on it. 

 

“With the rest of the Mighty Nein?”

 

“Undoubtedly.” Molly said. “We won’t return without them.”

 

“We’d best be off then. It’s still a long way to Zadash.” Shakäste said, beginning to pull his horse away, waving farewells to the Schuster’s but pausing a few steps away to make sure Molly said anything he wanted to say. 

 

Each of the gnomish children got a ruffle on the head, and both parents a warm nod and a smile (and a silver coin thrown their way to add to the already generous tip they’d gotten from the pair buying a good chunk of their inventory). Then there was Kiri.

 

She ducked out of the way of a head ruffle, her arms folded and her sheathed dagger by her side, seemingly just to help her look slightly intimidating. It didn’t work. Molly was prepared to give her a polite nod and move on, but Kiri spoke. 

 

“Take care of them.” Molly’s own voice spoke to him, the first phrase of his that Molly hadn’t actually said since arriving yesterday. 

 

Which meant he’d said it while Kiri was still with them. 

  
He locked eyes with Kiri, who stood firmly, both of them painfully aware of who the ‘them’ was without it needing to be said. He nodded, turning his horse around and beginning to walk away, calling out a goodbye over his shoulder. 

 

“Bye! Good luck!” The Schuster’s all chorused after him as they left, Molly quickly catching up to Shakäste, their voices slowly fading as they left Hupperdook behind them.

 

Molly doubted any other town would be able to quite live up to the unique duality Hupperdook provided, nor would he likely be so lucky to meet anyone who knew him and the Mighty Nein like the Schuster’s did again. The universe had been kind enough to give him them, and so he figured he’d used up his allotted amount of good fortune for the next week or so. And a  _ lot  _ of unfortunate things could happen in a week.

 

So he decided it was now up to him to ensure things went fine. Shouldn’t be too difficult. The biggest problem he could foresee were regaining more memories and not dying of boredom on the road.

 

He decided to combat that latter problem before they were even two miles out of Hupperdook.

 

“Shakäste, I’m curious. Where exactly is Alfield? You said that was where you met us.” Molly asked, walking his horse side by side with Shakäste. 

 

The old man had been fairly relaxed throughout the entire visit with the Schuster’s, not quite talking as much - though having a gaggle of energetic children all talking over one another anyway probably contributed to that - but overall seeming to enjoy the spectacle. Now that they had left though, he seemed more comfortable. 

 

“Oh, it’s south. Even further south than Zadash. I believe you and the Mighty Nein had come from somewhere even further south than that, though I don’t quite remember where, if you said it at all.” Shakäste said, shrugging lightly. 

 

“Alright. And you said you’d liked to stay around Alfield, didn’t you?” Molly asked, briefly considering whether it was wise to continue this particular line of questioning before ignoring that thought. If Shakäste didn’t want to say anything, he didn’t have to. “I was just wondering how you ended up so far from Alfield that you… well, ran across me.” 

 

It was a question that had been nagging Molly in the back of his mind for a while, but up until this point had been shunted away by far more important questions and worries. But now, he had nothing but time. 

 

Shakäste hummed under his breath, seeming to consider the question. His eyebrows narrowed slightly, but noticeably enough that Molly wondered if perhaps Shakäste  _ didn’t  _ want to answer. But he did, eventually.

 

“In truth, I was expecting I’d end up leaving the Empire.” He said, his voice light and a half-smile on his face. “The plain and simple of it was that I wanted to help people.” 

 

“Help people?” Molly frowned, but Shakäste wasn’t quite done. 

 

“The Empire doesn’t look kindly upon illegal magic. Especially necromancy. In the eyes of the king and his guards, once something, or someone dies, they ought to stay dead. Of course, there are rumours that doesn’t apply to those with enough money, but I’m generally not one to speculate.” A bitter edge snuck into Shakäste’s tone, something Molly hadn’t actually imagined was possible. He always seemed in control, it was difficult to picture something pissing off Shakäste.

 

The surprise of it kept him quiet, and the old man continued on.

 

“The Empire can’t keep track of every single cleric or magic user in the Empire, but raising a person from the dead is a complicated thing. It takes skill, which takes time. More importantly, it takes materials, specifically an expensive diamond. So many clerics can’t do it anyway.” Shakäste said. The Grand Duchess sat on his shoulder, preening her feathers. It was an innocent enough action, but Molly could see how it gave the bird a perfect view of him. 

 

An expensive diamond. He frowned.

 

“I… I think Jester was looking for one of those.” He said. Jester’s voice rang in his head, by far one of the more familiar ones thanks to how many phrases of hers Kiri had stored away. 

 

“In case of exactly what happened to you. She mustn't have been able to find one.” Shakäste shook his head, sighing. 

 

“So, you used up an expensive diamond just to bring me back to life? I didn’t know we were that close.” Molly smirked, and Shakäste glanced over his shoulder, one corner of his mouth twitching up.

 

“Don’t read into it too much. You’re far too young for me.” He said, and Molly snorted. 

 

Still, it hadn’t quite answered his question. “So, were you trying to leave the Empire so you could raise people from the dead more easily?”

 

“Eh, a more accurate answer is I was working with other people with similar ideals to mine. We wanted to help people, I imagined the best way to do so would be to learn more healing and resurrection magic, and I’d thought I’d be able to do that better outside of the Empire. When I arrived in Hupperdook the first time, at the tavern they told me about a group of strangers, tieflings, half-orcs, humans and a green person that may or may not have been a halfling, coming in and sweeping their weekly drinking competition.” Shakäste smiled. “So I decided to see if I might be able to catch up with you, instead, since our first encounter had been so… enriching.” 

 

“And instead, you found my coat on a stick.”

 

“Precisely.” Shakäste held up a finger in the air to accentuate his point. “I thought to myself, if your cleric hadn’t raised you herself, she mustn’t have had the ability or the materials. I did, so I did it myself.”

 

It was, in a way, a thoroughly underwhelming answer. Molly hadn’t expected some grand tale of a noble vision or destiny calling Shakäste exactly to the right spot, but pure chance and hearing a tale at a tavern was a tad ordinary for his tastes. At least one dream vision would have made things interesting.

 

Still, in the end it didn’t matter much how it happened, he supposed. Dead people can’t exactly be picky over how they come back to life. Especially when the magic to do it is essentially illegal.

 

“So, how long have you been able to raise people from the dead?” 

 

“A rather short time, actually. I couldn’t do it when I saw you last. I’d never learned before because it was… well, technically illegal, and I used to be quite a rule follower.” 

 

Molly thought for a moment before continuing to speak. “So what changed your mind?” 

 

The question hung in the air. Molly was painfully aware of each passing second, each one filled with silence feeling like an hour rather than a moment. Finally, Shakäste looked over his shoulder again, seemingly just so Molly could see his wry smile.

 

“Let’s just call it an epiphany.” He said, turning his head forwards again. “I realised if there was a way for me to save people’s lives along with healing them, why shouldn’t I do it? If only I had realised it earlier.”

 

“You realised it just in time for me.” Molly said, chuckling. 

 

“That I did.” Shakäste said. An unspoken ‘but’ hung in the air but neither man called attention to it, glancing away from each other and focusing on the road ahead of them.

 

Molly distantly wondered if he’d hit a nerve. Shakäste didn’t show it, beginning to hum quietly under his breath. In any case, it would probably do to leave well enough alone.

 

So they continued on, nodding politely to the few other travellers they passed. Most just hurried along, some more frantic than others. After the third small party to brush past them, casting a very long and pained look in Molly’s direction before kicking their horses to go faster, he was starting to get suspicious.

 

“Do you suppose those looks are just regular tiefling suspicions, or something worse?” He asked, fully aware that Shakäste would have seen them too through Stacey’s eyes.

 

“Perhaps… perhaps not.” Shakäste said slowly, petting his horse’s neck. Their ears were flicking every which way, clearly hearing or detecting  _ something  _ that was not yet close enough for either Shakäste or Molly to see. 

 

“A trap of some kind?”

 

Shakäste didn’t answer, Stacy darting forwards until she was nothing more than a quick blur that soon disappeared along the road.

 

As he waited for Stacey to return, Molly looked around, all his senses on alert. It was early afternoon by now, the sky still bright and the sun still casting light everywhere. With barely a cloud in the sky, it wasn’t quite ideal conditions for an ambush. 

 

Not to mention, while the other travellers had seemed frazzled, they hadn’t been robbed or beaten or anything. Just… spooked. Like they had seen something alarming, and had quickly moved on their way. 

 

He frowned, pieces starting to fit together in his mind but still missing some crucial details. 

 

“There’s a wolf being attacked by bandits along the road. Or poachers, I suppose.” Shakäste said, pulling the reins on his horse so he stopped. 

 

Molly did the same, both of them now paused in the middle of the road. “Oh?”   
  


“It’s alone, must’ve gotten separated from it’s pack. I didn’t know wolves roamed around here..” Shakäste said.

 

“Oh.” Well that was strange. 

 

He exchanged a glance with Shakäste, the same thing running through their minds. 

 

“How many bandits?” Molly asked.

 

“Five. Not magic users as far as I can tell, but the wolf isn’t having a particularly good time. Do you think you’ll be able to hold your own?”

 

Molly scoffed, tapping at his glass scimitars by his side. “You said I fought with you, didn’t I? It’ll be muscle memory, surely.” 

 

Shakäste smiled wanly, before tapping at his horse’s side. “They’re still a fair ways ahead. If we get the drop on them, I might be able to take some of them out before they realise we’re there.” 

 

Molly nodded, and they began to move forward as quickly as they dared. He could feel a rush of energy starting to build, an anticipation for something exciting and dangerous. But a thought niggled at the back of his mind. 

 

“You know, those bandits might just be hungry and need food.” He remarked. Shakäste just shrugged.

 

“They didn’t seem desperate. Just looking for easy prey.”

 

“Fair enough.” Molly said. “Shall we go be heroes then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo I'm not dead! Yay. Don't worry, I'm going to finish this fic if it kills me because I like this fic. But I probably won't be updating every other day, as I'm quite busy with uni work at the moment. But I'll do my best. Thanks to everyone who's left me a comment or kudos or enjoyed my work, I really appreciate it!!


	8. Nothing Like A Good Dose Of Memories In The Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some inconvenient events occur.

Was this foolish?

 

Probably.

 

Three on five weren’t terribly good odds, especially since it was still unclear if Molly could even remember how to fight in the first place, and one of them was a wolf who may not even recognise they were helping it. But hey, waving his scimitars around would at least be a distraction for… something.

 

He could always throw his coat at them and _then_ slash at the bandits with his scimitars.

 

Eh, he’d figure it out when he got there.

 

A sudden cracking sound filled the air, like a log being snapped in half. Shakäste and Molly shared a glance, picking up the pace. Shouts began to be reach their ears, and eventually they turned off the road, finding a secluded spot to tie up their horses so they could sneak closer to where the fighting was.

 

Stacy helped lead them, flying ahead every now and then so Shakäste could find the way to a good spot as quickly as they could. Time was of the essence, and every second wasted was one where things could go horribly wrong.

 

Shakäste held up a hand at chest level, stopping Molly in his tracks. In the next moment there was a thunderous sound, like a storm had suddenly descended upon them despite the sun shining brightly. Both men clasped their hands to their ears, waiting for the horrific sound to pass.

 

“No magic users, you said?” Molly asked dryly.

 

Shakäste was unapologetic, holding his cane like a staff. “Eh.”

 

“If I die again because these bandits are actually like, high-level mages, I will blame you.”

 

“You’ll be able to chew me out in the afterlife, I’m sure.” Shakäste smirked. “Now, let’s go.”

 

Holding scimitars and canes at the ready, the pair continued sneaking through the brush, not worrying so much about stealth as it soon became obvious that everyone involved was extremely distracted. There were muffled thumps and snaps, the sounds of bandits shouting, and one solitary yelp.

 

Eventually, they found a gap in the trees, and Shakäste stood aside to let Molly peer through, Stacy flying through first and flittering out of view. As the sight of the fight before him in a small clearing just off the side of the road, Molly’s eyes widened.

 

It was not, in fact, a wolf taking on five bandits/poachers. It was a tiefling, and a young-looking one at that, with pinkish-red skin and shoddily-chopped darker hair. Their clothes were dirty and ragged, with a big fur coat of some kind draped over their shoulders and covered most of their back. They wore mismatched boots and a glove on just one hand, a dart in her other and a small bag hanging from a belt. From the distance it was hard to tell their gender, but from the crossbow bolts in their shoulder and leg, and bloodstains beginning to spread on their clothes, it was easy to see they were in trouble.

 

“That’s odd.” Shakäste mumbled, seemingly just surprised at the tiefling as him.

 

“Indeed. Still, now these bandits have upgraded from animal cruelty to assault.”

 

“I _did_ see a wolf, so it’s more like adding assault onto the animal cruelty.” Shakäste mused. “But there’s no time to waste.”

 

Without so much as brief synopsis of any kind of plan, Shakäste ducked through the underbrush to stop just outside the edge of the clearing. Three of the bandits were currently up and fighting, two aiming crossbows while one chased after the tiefling with a sword, stopping them from escaping into the forest or back onto the road. One of the bandits was writhing on the ground while the fifth knelt next to him. Shakäste muttered a few words under his breath, as the Grand Duchess returned to perch on his shoulder.

 

After a split second there was a sudden rush of energy, as a piercing ray of fire descended from seemingly nowhere, in between the two crossbow wielders and close enough to sear them both. They shrieked, one of them dropping their weapon in their fright and the other screaming backwards as the flame burnt into his skin. The other’s cloak quickly caught aflame and he struggled to unclasp it, as the sword-wielding bandit stumbled, his eyes wide in shock at the flames.

 

The tiefling teenager nearly fell over as well, before taking the opportunity to hobble to a nearby tree and begin to climb with surprising nimbleness, fumbling with something on their belt.

 

Well, no better time to make an entrance than now.

 

Molly was halfway across the clearing by the time the bandits realised where the source of the fire was. One of the bandits, stomping on his smoldering cloak, wasn’t quick enough to realise someone was behind him, and he struck, slicing a gash through the man’s thinner clothes and up his back with a finesse that surprised himself.

 

Muscle memory, indeed.

 

“Argh! Hey!”

 

He ducked low to dodge the man swinging a fist around, stabbing his other scimitar at the back of the bandits knee. It pierced his pants and the man screamed out a cry of pain, his leg buckling and Molly pushing him so that he fell forwards rather than backwards.

 

At the same time the other bandit, nursing an injured arm, recovered enough fury to try and launch an attack of his own, drawing a shortsword and beginning to charge. But before he could do anything a blurred, shimmering object smacked into him, knocking him to the floor before hovering just above his prone body.

 

It was quite literally a floating bust of someone Molly couldn’t even hope to recognise, and for a second Molly just squinted at it, before looking in the direction of Shakäste. The old man was grinning, giving Molly a thumbs up with both hands.

 

“What the fu-” The bandit who had been kneeling next to his fallen comrade stood up, a spear in hand that he shakily pointed towards Molly. Clearly, none of them had been expecting reinforcements. “Who are you?”

 

“Someone you won’t have to see again if you leave now.” Molly said, spinning one of his scimitars in his hand.

 

“I-” The bandit looked around at his fallen friends, seeming to consider it. But then his face hardened, contorting into a growl and he rushed forward, spear aimed directly at Molly’s chest.

 

Time seemed to slow, and the the spear didn’t look like a spear anymore.

 

_The tip of the glaive rushed forward even as red creeped into the edges of his vision, stars dancing in the background._

 

_“Molly!” Beau?_

 

“Molly!” Shakäste?

 

_A tattooed, bald-headed man smiled in the split second before the glaive pierced his skin like paper, but he barely felt it, sounds and screams in the background already beginning to fade away._

 

There were dull thuds in the distance, the bandit quickly crossing the space between them.

 

_Blood filled his mouth._

 

The bandit pulled his arm back, the _glaive-_ spear raising up.

 

_Oh, he was going to die here, wasn’t he._

 

A rush of cold blew past him, followed by a burst of ice shards that flicked at his face like raindrops. The spear fell, never leaving the bandits hand.

 

_It was worth it._

 

A hand pulled at his shoulder, tugging him away.

 

“Molly!” Darkness filling his vision began to fade, the bright sunlight replacing it. Sounds rushed back in full force and suddenly Molly was panting, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him and his hands shaking.

 

The bandit - the one with the spear who had come so close to attacking him - to _killing_ him - lay on the ground writhing, half his upper leg torn to pieces.

 

The only other bandit still standing, sword in his hand underneath the tree where the tiefling teenager was watching with wide eyes, saw everything and quickly dropped his weapon, holding his hands high in the air before the strange bust of a person smacked into him, leaving him twitching on the ground.

 

“Mollymauk, baby, listen to me.” Shakäste’s voice was smooth, it always was, but it was laced with urgency and concern, his hand a firm and grounding presence on his shoulder. “Can you hear me?”

 

Molly nodded his head slowly. Sounds were about the only thing he was completely sure of at the moment, loud and ringing and all too sharp but there. His vision was still ringed with red, the colour of blood that he could taste on his lips and flashed in his eyes. He may have dropped one of his scimitars, he couldn’t be sure.

 

“Alright, we need to go.” Shakäste kept his voice low, before calling out to someone else. “Are you coming with us?”

 

Molly’s head spun, his brain trying to separate what had just happened and what had not, because both scenarios felt so _real_. Beau’s voice echoed in his head, loud and harsh and… terrified, which felt like an emotion Beau shouldn’t have.

 

He thought he was going to die.

 

He thought he was going to die, and then he _did_.

 

Shaking his head, he tried to ignore the deep sense of dread settling in his stomach, the pain in his chest, and the tang of blood in his mouth. Shakäste pulled him away back in the direction of the horses, and Molly could sense another person walking along with them, albeit a few steps behind.

 

After a few steps he began walking properly again, Shakäste gently lowering his hand but sticking close, picking up the pace until they made it to their horses and left the bandits behind.

 

Without another word, Molly climbed up on his own horse, and Shakäste on Amiro, keeping an eye on him the whole time. Stacy flew over and landed on his shoulder, nuzzling against his neck and cheek for a moment before returning to Shakäste, a silent show of support.

 

“Let’s get out of here.” Shakäste said, offering a hand to the tiefling teenager that had followed them, getting them up on to the back of his horse before setting off back down the road at a fast pace that didn’t slow until they had left the bandits and the fight far, far behind them.

 

The rhythmic bump of each step the horse rang in his ears, jolting Molly back into the word every second. Shakäste was silent, the tiefling was silent, and Molly wasn’t sure if he’d have been able to talk if he tried.

 

Despite the more or less victory they’d had, the tension in the air felt far more like that of a defeat. Because of him.

 

As they got further away, as his mind brushed away the fog and the confusion, what had happened slowly became clear.

 

That was it. That was his death.

 

He had woken up in a grave with a curse on his lips against a man with tattoos, a bald head, and who had plunged a glaive into his chest while his friends had been mere metres away.

 

Shift just a little to the left, and perhaps it would have been Beau instead. Or Caleb. Or Nott, or any of them.

 

Instead it was him, and the memory of that split second felt like a millenia. The throbbing in his chest faded as the minutes ticked on, his vision cleared and his tongue felt less numb and dry. If he’d felt like it he probably would have been able to talk.

 

A part of him wanted to. An explanation, to tell Shakäste what had happened so he wouldn’t worry that it would happen again. Of course, Molly had no guarantee about that. But he knew Shakäste wouldn’t nag him about it. He’d sit, and he’d wait, and he’d silently watch Molly, preparing for the explanation, but he wouldn’t push it.

 

So Molly didn’t say anything, and the silence continued until they stopped to set up camp.

 

It’s actually the tiefling who finds the spot, ears flicking and becoming restless as the sun began to go down until they pointed to a small pile of boulders surrounded by a thicket of trees, through which was a rather nicely sized area that would hide all three of them and their horses from anyone else who may come along the road.

 

“Good spotting there.” Shakäste said, leading Amiro through it as the tiefling darted ahead, seemingly scouting the area just to be sure. Molly followed silently, petting his horse’s mane before tying him off to a tree branch. “Now, I don’t believe we’ve made any introductions yet.”

 

The tiefling paused from where they perched on a low tree branch, surveying the road carefully. Now that they were stopped and closer, Molly could see more clearly that they were actually a girl, with a small nose and cheeks that still had some baby fat hanging onto them. There were also small scars dotting her face, with a small chunk missing from the end of one ear, and three long scratch or claw marks on her right cheek, though that scar looked long faded.

 

“No.” She said, her tail, long with a small fluffy tuft on the end, flicked back and forth. She looked away, as if trying to remember what to say. “I’m Tiny.”

 

Well, that made sense. Molly didn’t consider himself particularly tall - though his only current comparisons were Shakäste and the half-elves and humans in Hupperdook - but Tiny was quite short. Not as short as gnomes and dwarves, but barely brushing five feet if she stood on the tips of her toes. In heeled boots.

 

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Shakäste gave a short bow, and Tiny’s eyes widened like she’d never seen such a thing before. “My name is Shakäste, and my companion here is Mollymauk.”

 

“Molly.” Molly said, nodding politely. He’d been quiet long enough, best to reassure Shakäste that he could actually still speak. And best to reassure himself he could still do it too.

 

Tiny returned the nod, doing a clumsy bow of her own, which made Shakäste chuckle. “Are you alright?” Her voice was slightly stilted and accented, though Molly had absolutely no idea where it was from.

 

Her question she directed at Molly, even though she wasn’t looking at him, but rather at a particular spot on his coat. Still, Shakäste was uninjured and _hadn’t_ had a freak-out/flashback/whatever it was during battle, so that left just him.

 

“In perfect health.” He said, forcing some cheer into his voice. Shakäste wasn’t fooled for a second, but he said nothing. Good.

 

“Okay.” Tiny however, most certainly was, some tension bleeding from her, her shoulders relaxing. “That’s good.”

 

“Very good indeed. You were lucky you got out of there with just the injuries you had.” Shakäste said. “What happened?”

 

“I was walking, and they attacked me.” Tiny said, shrugging lightly.

 

“You were walking… alone?” Shakäste’s eyebrows knitted together. “That can be dangerous.”

 

Tiny’s ears pinned back. “Usually I’m not alone.” She said, sadness creeping into her voice. She turned her head away, jumping down from the tree and walking a little closer to them, but still a good five steps away at any given moment.

 

“Oh?” Molly wasn’t sure exactly why he’d spoken there. Maybe because the idea that there was another person here, one who had had people and then lost them, made things feel slightly more… manageable. It was doubtful Tiny was under the same circumstances as him, but something similar? He felt sympathy.

 

“Did you… lose someone?” Shakäste asked slowly, watching Tiny carefully for signs of distress. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

 

“No, I did lose someone. My mentor, Kaimos.” Tiny spoke rather bluntly, though sadness still trimmed her voice. She sat down on the edge of a pile of wood Shakäste had deposited, though all thought of stick-collecting had been currently left by the wayside.

 

Molly blinked. Okay, she obviously wasn’t torn up about it, but it was surprising how… okay she was.

 

“I’m very sorry about that.” Shakäste nodded respectfully. “Was he a family member?”

 

“No. I don’t have a family, I have a pack.” Tiny said, before pausing. “Though Kaimos said they were kind of the same thing.”

 

Alright, this story was getting stranger by the second, and Molly’s curiosity was _roaring._

 

“Hang on, you have a pack?”

 

Tiny nodded. “Of wolves. They raised me, and then Kaimos came along and now he’s teaching me.”

 

“You were raised… by wolves?” Molly couldn’t believe it. Even Shakäste seemed slightly perturbed, and normally he was unflappable. Still, for Shakäste, slightly perturbed just meant an eyebrow raised higher than normal, but _still_. His jaw may as well have dropped open.

 

Tiny, for her part, just seemed confused by their reaction. “Why do people always ask that…” She mumbled to herself, frowning.

 

“How long… were you with your pack?” Shakäste recovered himself, sitting down at the wood pile as well. Molly copied, if just to match everyone else present.

 

“My whole life. Kaimos found us when I was fifteen winters old, and now I’m sixteen winters old.” Tiny said, nodding happily.

 

“So, if the wolves were your family, why’d you leave with Kaimos?” Molly asked, slowly digesting the thought of a baby being literally raised by wolves. He supposed stranger things had happened, his entire life - or lives - apparently being just one example.

 

Tiny tilted her head lightly, still never quite making eye contact with either of them. “Because of my magic. He’s helping me learn how to use it.”

 

Things were slowly slipping into place, but one thing was nagging at Molly’s mind, and he was happy for any distraction from the other things that were nagging at his mind.

 

“Wait, he’s helping? Present tense?”

 

“Yes?” Tiny said, looking confused. “Did I say something wrong?”

 

“Sorry, it may have just been your wording. You’re making it sound like Kaimos is still assisting you, but you said he… died.” Shakäste said. Now Tiny looked even more confused.

 

“Kaimos isn’t dead. He’s just _lost_. He got captured by some guards and I lost him.” She said, frowning. “So I was on my way to go find him again.”

 

“Oh.” Both Molly and Shakäste spoke at the same time, glancing at each other.

 

“Why was he captured?” Shakäste asked.

 

“And how are you going to get him back?” Molly followed up, one eyebrow raised. Usually guards were supposed to arrest criminals, but since they’d also arrested Gilda and Wallace back in Hupperdook they were obviously fallible. And Tiny didn’t seem like much a criminal.

 

“Someone robbed the tavern we were staying in the same day we were going to leave, and we got blamed for it.” Tiny shrugged loosely, picking up a stick and poking it into the ground. “I’m going to get him out of prison.”

 

“Again, I must ask how you plan to do that. You’re only one person.” Molly said, concern creeping into his mind.

 

Tiny’s frown deepened, and it was obviously a problem she’d thought about for some time, but had yet to come up with an answer for it.

 

“I don’t know. But I’m going to do it.” She looked up, meeting Molly’s eyes for the first time, a fire blazing behind magenta eyes. “I’m going to get him out of there somehow.”

 

“My dear, I admire your loyalty to your friend. But breaking a man out of prison might only result in your being locked up as well. For an actual crime, not a suspected one.” Shakäste said.

 

“We could help.” Molly said, without really thinking about the implication of those words. When he did, his eyes widened slightly, but both Tiny and Shakäste were already looking at him, surprise clear as day on both of their faces.

 

“Really?” Tiny asked, before she shrunk back, suspicion glazed on her features. “But I don’t know you.”

 

“And a few days ago I didn’t know _anyone_. Besides, I’ve apparently busted people out of jail before, I can probably do it again.” He grinned, and Tiny didn’t seem particularly convinced, but she certainly wasn’t about to turn him down. “What do you say, Shakäste?”

 

Shakäste looked at him carefully, his eyes narrowing even though they both knew there was absolutely no reason for it. Stacy, perched happily on his knee, did the same.

 

Yup, Shakäste knew exactly what he was doing. The sooner he had something to occupy his mind with - like a rescue mission - the sooner he could ignore and forget inconvenient events and memories that probably needed to be discussed.

 

Still, the cleric just sighed, standing up and stretching his legs. “Well, if we’re going to be doing a jailbreak, we need to be well-rested. Come help me find some more wood, will you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow Molly that denial sure is a great coping mechanism you got there, let's see how long THAT lasts you.
> 
> Also YAY JAILBREAKS


	9. Damn Druids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an entirely unnecessary jailbreak begins.

Molly’s dreams hadn’t been pleasant that night, and when Shakäste had taken over his watch he had given him a very long, hard look that told Molly he knew exactly what he was doing.

 

But Molly couldn’t quite bring himself to care. Even if his stomach was turning itself inside out and the thought of his own… passing… sent shivers down his spine and a stab in his chest, he told himself that it was fine.

 

Shakäste didn’t need to know the specifics, not if Molly could deal with it himself.

 

And by deal with it, he meant putting the images into a box and shoving it in a deep, dark closet at the very back of his currently extremely empty store of memories so he didn’t have to think about it again.

 

Then, just to top the cake, he could make ignoring it even easier by helping a tiefling raised by wolves bust a friend of hers out of prison. 

 

When he got back to the others he was going to have a story for them and it was going to be  _ spectacular _ . No need to worry about silly things like the moments of one’s death when you had some wonderful stories that occurred afterwards. 

 

“So, do you know where he’s being held?” Molly asked, crouched alongside Tiny in a ditch just outside a small town called Ottonon. Apparently, the same town where Tiny’s friend Kaimos had been captured.

 

“No.” Tiny said, her tail flicking back and forth, her stance tense and alert. 

 

About three feet back, Shakäste sat on the ground, sighing at the both of them with a cup of leftover stew from breakfast in his hand. Though he had agreed to helping, he had made it quite clear to Molly that he did not approve of this particular coping mechanism (even if he didn’t openly state it as such), and expressed that by not appearing nearly as invested in this rescue mission as he should be. Thankfully, Tiny seemed completely unaware, focused entirely on her mentor. 

 

Was Molly taking advantage of Shakäste probably not wanting to bring it up directly while Tiny was there? Perhaps. 

 

He ignored Shakäste for now, focusing on the problems in front of him. Those he could fix.

 

“Alright then, that’s fine. It’s a small town, it shouldn’t take too long to find.” Molly shrugged. “Would the guards recognise you?”

 

Tiny thought for a moment. “I did use thunderwave on them.” 

 

“And you’re probably the only red tiefling around here, so it’s safe to assume they will.” Molly squinted at some of the people walking around town. Not a single tiefling as far as they eye could see. “Perhaps you could wait here while Shakäste and I do some investigating.”

 

“Wait? I don’t want to wait.” Tiny frowned, her tail twitching more insistently. 

 

“Do you have a disguise of some kind?” Molly’s thoughts drifted to the disguise kit, still safe and sound in his coat.

 

No. Not that. That he’d save for something really worth it. 

 

“I can turn into a wolf.” Tiny said, her ears pricking up and her face lighting up. 

 

“A wha- oooooh.” Things clicked into place for Molly. Of course. Shakäste had seen the bandits attacking a wolf, but when they arrived it was Tiny instead. Glancing at Shakäste, he seemed to have already put it together, nodding slightly.

 

“That’s a good start, but a wolf might draw even more attention. Can you turn into any more domestic animals? Like a cat or a dog?” He asked.

 

Tiny had to think for a few moments, before nodding. “I saw a little baby cat once, would that work?” 

 

Shakäste nodded in reply, and Tiny closed her eyes tight, focusing. As Molly watched her form jolted slightly before shifting and shrunk. It was a little clunky, like she wasn’t used to it, but it was still very impressive, and he gave a low whistle of appreciation when she was done, leaving behind a small calico kitten. Something about it tugged at Molly, much in the same way that Caleb’s handwriting did before Shakäste had read the note to him. 

 

Perhaps he used to have a cat at some time. Either way, Kitten-Tiny wasn’t enough to jog anything specific, so there was nothing for him to do but move on. 

 

“You’re one hundred percent adorable, that’s perfect.” Molly said, desperately wanting to pet her but unsure if that was something one should do when he knew it was an actual person and not just a kitten. 

 

Kitten-Tiny walked around in a circle, pawing at the ground a few times and stretching, seemingly just to get used to her new body. Then she promptly turned around to face the town again, hissing once in its direction.

 

“Oh, can you talk in that form?” Molly thought to ask. Kitten-Tiny just shook her head.

 

“Wonderful.” Ah, this was getting more interesting by the second. 

 

Shakäste cleared his throat. “If we’re only doing some recon she won’t need to talk.” 

 

“Of course. So, the plan is simple. We go into town, we find out where they keep prisoners, then we can return here and come up with another plan to bust in, alright?” 

 

“Or we can see if there’s an alternate way of securing his release. Like paying his bail.” Shakäste deadpanned.

 

“I’ve done that once already, the universe likes variety. Let’s go!” Without another word Molly jumped to his feet, Kitten-Tiny running alongside him as he jogged to get to the road so he didn’t look so much like a creeper stalking the town from a ditch. Luckily, no one seemed to have noticed him, and Shakäste joined them as they got to their horses, leading them into town.

 

Like any regular travellers, they headed straight to the tavern, tying up their horses outside. Molly scooped up Kitten-Tiny to prevent her getting stomped on by any particularly drunk patrons, tucking her into a pocket that still allowed her to look all around. 

 

It wasn’t busy inside, with only three tables currently occupied, and one group nestled in a corner of the bar, laughing about some story or joke one of them had told. But even though none of the groups made any overt moments, Molly could feel their eyes on him from the second he crossed the threshold. 

 

Walking up to the bar, Shakäste signalled for the barkeeper, a squat and stocky human man with ruddy skin and tousled black hair, who quickly came over from what seemed like a very entertaining conversation with the other group at the bar. 

 

He looked them both up and down, squinting particularly hard at Molly in particular, who just plastered on the most innocent expression he could manage. “What can I do ye for?”

 

“Just a round of ale would be absolutely divine. We’re only stopping by today.” Shakäste made a show of stretching his arms and looking weary, as if he were as tired and exhausted as someone of his age probably should be after half a day of travel. 

 

“Ah. Where’re you headed?” The barkeep began pouring out the drinks, still eyeing them, though he probably thought he was being slick. 

 

“Zadash.” Molly said, keeping his tone casual. “I’m hoping to meet with some old friends of mine.” 

 

“Zadash? I hope you have a meeting spot planned out then.” The barkeep mumbled. 

 

Molly chuckled, as if the idea that he didn’t was ridiculous. “Of course.” He let his voice fade away naturally, pretending to look over at the other patrons for the first time. They, predictably, ducked their heads as soon as his gaze got close to them. “I’m curious, do your other patrons normally make a habit of staring at travellers?”

 

For a moment the human sputtered, clearly having not expected that line of questioning, and wanting to get back to his own, far more comfortable conversation as quickly as possible. But he quickly recovered himself, playing it off as nothing more than an involuntary cough, which Molly and Shakäste both pretended they believed. 

 

“Ah, apologies for that. There was just… an incident in here a few days ago, with a couple others of…” He murmured to himself for a few moments, while Molly just sat there innocently. “Your kind.” 

 

A hand flew to Molly’s chest, and Shakäste clicked his tongue lowly. 

 

“Oh, that’s awful. I suppose I can understand then. What happened?” Molly asked, leaning closer to the bench. He could feel a vibrating in his pocket where Kitten-Tiny was, and the most adorable quiet hissing he had ever heard in his life. However, the barkeeper didn’t seem to hear. 

 

“It was a bit of a confusing incident. But one of our patrons was robbed, and another spotted them preparing to leave with some of the stolen items. They tried to flee, but the guards managed to arrest one of them.” The barkeeper shook his hand, passing both of them their drinks. 

 

“Only one?” Molly asked, tilting his head.

 

“There were two of them, the other managed to run into the forest before we could catch him.”

 

“Did you manage to retrieve the stolen items?” Shakäste asked, one eyebrow raised. 

 

“Afraid not. We think the one who ran away had them. It caused a bit of a scandal.” The barkeeper cleared his throat.

 

“So where’s the one who was caught?” 

 

“Ah, he’s being held in the town’s jail. He’ll probably stay there for quite a long time, thanks to the eyewitness and resisting arrest and all that.” The barkeeper cleared his throat. “Well, I must be off, but that’ll be two copper.” 

 

Molly paid for the drinks with some of the money he had left over from selling gems in Hupperdook, tossing the barkeep four copper with a sly grin and a wink that went a long way towards making the man seem far more relaxed and amiable in his presence. He thanked them kindly before returning to his previous conversation. 

 

“Well, there we go.” Molly said into his mug, so no one else could see his smirk. “Now we know where he is.”

 

“We still don’t know where the jail is.” Shakäste pointed out, but Molly wasn’t worried.

 

“The town’s small, it won’t be hard.” He said, looking down at the pocket where Kitten-Tiny was. She was bristling with energy, looking one step away from literally bolting out of his pocket and out the door. “Don’t worry, we’ll finish this drink so we don’t look suspicious, then we’ll head to the jail.”

 

True to his word, they lingered in the tavern only long enough to finish their drinks, and Molly left an extra tip on the counter just because he could. 

 

Once they got outside they untethered their horses and got on, slowly moving through town on the lookout for a jail. 

 

Like Molly had predicted, it wasn’t difficult. The vast majority of buildings in the town were obviously homes or shops, leaving only a few out of the ordinary. One was a small temple, though they didn’t get close enough to discern which god it was dedicated to. Then there was the tavern, which obviously wasn’t it. 

 

That left just one building left, made of solid stone with a small wooden front. Barred windows dotted the stone walls, and a bored looking guard stood out front, leaning against the wall with a spear by his side. 

 

Molly shivered, stopping himself from doing it before Shakäste noticed. “Well, there’s the jail, I think.”

 

“Likely an accurate assessment.” Shakäste said. In Molly’s pocket, Kitten-Tiny began to mew, her body tense. “So, what shall we do now?”

 

“Recon?” Molly suggested. Before Shakäste could answer, Kitten-Tiny seemed to have had enough, clambering out of her pocket and falling to the ground. She landed on all fours and took off immediately, darting all the way towards the jail. 

 

“Ah shit.” 

 

Both men climbed off their horses, racing after the kitten before she could do anything rash. 

 

The guard seemed to see the kitten racing towards them like she was on fire, one hand reaching for his spear before he began to coo. Then he saw Molly and Shakäste racing after said kitten, and this time he did grab his spear.

 

“Halt!” He said, as Kitten-Tiny raced past his feet, squeezing into a small gap in the door.

 

“Sorry! Sorry!” Molly said, letting himself look even more flustered than he felt, nervously eyeing the spear. “That’s our cat!” 

 

“I told you to keep a close eye on her!” Shakäste scolded, opening the door before the guard could say anything else. 

 

“Hey-wait!” The guard began, but both of them had already slipped inside. 

 

Inside the room was a large desk, behind which a now confused man sat. There were a few benches scattered around the room and large windows that let in light, and a large door that must have led to the rest of the prison. Leaning against the desk was another guard, now pointing at the door, through which Kitten-Tiny was already wriggling herself through, and disappearing. 

  
“What’s going on here?” The man behind the desk stood up, slamming his hands down on the bench and glaring down Molly and Shakäste. 

 

“We’re so sorry! Our kitten ran in here, do you see her?” Molly looked around frantically, kneeling down to look under a bench. 

 

“A cat ran into the main block!” The guard said. 

 

“Oh, that must be her!” Molly cried out, playing up his acting skills for all they were worth. Fjord would be so proud. 

 

“We sincerely apologise for this inconvenience, could we please collect our kitten? My nephew here only let go of her for a moment.” Shakäste walked up to the best, acting the calm and collected uncle to Molly’s distressed nephew, as said nephew knocked over a bench in his fake panic.

 

“Absolutely not.” The man said, before taking one look at the devastated look Molly sent his way and seeming to decide it was more trouble than it was worth. “Reuben! Go in there and find that cat!” He scowled.

 

Well, if they couldn’t get in the prison block themselves, hopefully Tiny would be able to see enough of it while she was inside. Which meant his and Shakäste’s job would now be to stall. 

 

“Thank you kindly.” Shakäste said, as Molly climbed to his feet and practically threw himself on the desk, reaching for the man’s hand to shake it. The man pulled back like he’d been poisoned.

 

“By gods-” He sputtered, and Molly got the sense he’d perhaps been laying the drama on a  _ little  _ too thickly. Well, in for a copper, out for a gold. 

 

“I’m so sorry!” He cried out, placing the back of a hand on his forehead. “I’m such a mess! It’s just- my parents-”

 

“My brother and sister-in-law. The sister-in-law was where the dramatics come from.” Shakäste said, grimacing, but Molly continued like he hadn’t been interrupted while the man just nodded slowly.

 

“That kitten was the last gift they gave me before they were murdered!” At the final word Molly practically collapsed into sobs, and the man just stared at him in disbelief.

 

Okay, it definitely wasn’t a perfect performance. But all he needed to do was distract this man long enough that he wouldn’t ask too many deep questions. 

 

“I assume the sister-in-law is where the looks come from too?” The man said to Shakäste, who just nodded solemnly. “I’ll pray to the gods for you.” 

 

“I appreciate that.” Shakäste said, glancing towards the door. “Though I do hope our kitten doesn’t come to any harm in there. Is that where prisoners are kept?” 

 

“Yes, but I don’t think you need to worry. Just a few thieves and false worshippers in there right now.” The man shook his head. “Though Reuben is taking an awful time to catch a damned cat.”

 

Molly couldn’t help but think the same thing. Even if Tiny was giving the poor guard the runaround in there, it wasn’t a large building. It shouldn’t take that long to get in, find out where Kaimos is, and then return so they could leave and come up with a plan to get him out. 

 

Unless she decided to break him out right then and there.

 

“Kaimos!” That certainly wasn’t the guards voice. 

 

Hmm. Perhaps he should have expected this. 

 

“What the-” The man turned towards the door, and Molly and Shakäste shared a look that only said ‘well, this is happening now.’ before they bolted for the door, reaching for their weapons. 

 

So much for recon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Druids are wild shit man. Also, yaayyyyyyyy two chapters in two days yayyyyyyyyy.


	10. A Thoroughly Unnecessary Jailbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a jailbreak is far easier than planned, and Molly has absolutely zero problems thank you very much.

Bursting through the door, Molly couldn’t help but think of the hospital heist, as he was now calling it, that he and Fjord - and a few of the others he was pretty sure - had attempted. He mentally called it the hospital heist because ‘the time Molly painted his dick’ was too long and caused him to snicker every time he thought about it, and the event itself did enough of that already. 

 

But when one only had so many memories, it was rather difficult to not think about them. Especially when he was currently doing something very similar, though he was fairly certain the hospital heist had nothing to do with getting someone out of jail. 

 

Still, the spirit of it all was the same. 

 

Inside the main block of the prison was barely restrained pandemonium. Prisoners, locked behind steel bars, were either cowering in the corner of their cells or pounding on the bars, cheering or demanding to be let out. 

 

The poor guard who had been sent in to fetch a kitten was standing in the middle of the walkway, a sword drawn. Beyond him was no-longer-a-kitten-Tiny, who now held a  _ flaming sword in her hands where in the nine hells did she get that-  _ and was alternating between waving said flaming sword threatening at the guard and calling out to someone in a cell to her right. 

 

“Stop them!” The man from behind the desk called out, and Molly heard a rush of footsteps behind him. The guard from out front. Shit. 

 

“Tiny, I told you not to do anything rash!” An unfamiliar voice called out, which Molly assumed to be Kaimos. 

 

“Drop that sword! You’re under arrest!” Reuben, the guard called out, though from how badly he was shaking he didn’t seem ready to order a fly around. 

 

Tiny was unrepentant, growling at the guard. Molly took the opportunity his distraction provided, running up behind the guard and hitting him with the bottom of the hilt to his scimitars as hard as he could, kicking the man in the back of the shins for good measure. 

 

Surprised and unprepared to be clobbered, the poor man buckled and fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes. To be certain he wouldn’t get up again, Molly gave him a good stomp on the back. Hopefully he’d have nothing worse than some awful bruises the next day. 

 

“We’d best get going.” Shakäste said smoothly, leaning his weight against the door. It rattled, and Molly could hear shouts on the other side.

 

“Agreed. Tiny, how are we standing on getting your friend out?” Molly asked. Tiny ignored them in favour of stabbing at the lock on the cell door with her blazing sword. She didn’t seem to be making much progress, but that wasn’t stopping her.

 

Magic-users, Molly thought distantly. They were insane. 

 

“Shakäste, you good?” Molly asked, looking over his shoulder.

 

“Ask me in ten seconds.” Shakäste strained against the door, speaking through gritted teeth. “Some  _ assistance would be nice. _ ” 

 

Flashing a grin, Molly joined Shakäste at the door, a battle of strength between two guards and whatever Molly and Shakäste counted as. An old man and a five-day old. Technically. 

 

Had it even been five days? Maybe just four. 

 

A particularly strong heave jolted Molly out of his thoughts and he grimaced, pushing back with all his strength. 

 

“Tiny!” He called out warningly. “How’s it going?”

 

There was a great rumbling sound, and Molly squinted down the hallway of the block as sudden amounts of sunlight began to stream in. A shuddering vibrated through the earth as vines - fucking  _ vines this was getting ridiculous  _ \- sprung up like flowers, twisting metal bars and crumbling parts of stone and rock away as they watched. 

 

Next to Tiny, Molly caught the tail end of a mouse transforming into a dark muddy red skinned tiefling, with long white hair braided in a complicated style. He had similarly dirty and worn clothes to Tiny, though his seemed to be in slightly better condition.

 

Wait, if that guy could transform into animals the entire time, why were they even here breaking him out?

 

“Let’s go!” Tiny called out, either not seeing or ignoring the disappointed look the man, who must’ve been Kaimos, was giving her as she jumped through the hole in the wall the vines had created. 

 

Molly certainly didn’t need to be told twice, grabbing onto Shakäste’s hand and running towards it himself.

 

Once all four of them were outside Molly circled around to where their horses were, finding Tiny and Kaimos falling into step behind him. They reached them by the time the guards had realised they’d gotten out of the prison block, Molly helping Tiny climb up onto the back of his horse while Shakäste helped Kaimos onto his, kicking them both into a gallop as quickly as they could. 

 

They bolted out of town, outrunning the hapless guards easily.

 

Well that was potentially the shortest and unnecessary jailbreak Molly could think of. Paying bail for the Schuster’s had apparently been more complicated and lengthy. 

 

“I didn’t know your friend had the same abilities as you, Tiny.” Shakäste said, apparently running along the same thought process as Molly. 

 

“I apologise if she dragged you in to our misadventures.” Kaimos said, looking slightly exhausted but unharmed by the entire experience. 

 

“You were in trouble.” Tiny muttered, pouting and holding onto Molly’s coat. “You didn’t meet up with me.”

 

“Because I don’t want us to end up banned from setting foot in another town.” Kaimos rolled his eyes, but one corner of his lips were starting to curl up into a fond smile. “Tiny, you know I wouldn’t leave you forever.”

 

There was a pang in Molly’s heart as Tiny grumbled and he could feel Shakäste’s eyes, or Shakäste looking through Stacy’s eyes, on him, as if watching to see if he’d react. He didn’t. Not outwardly at least. 

 

“I was gonna wait. I was gonna come back and wait at the edge of town for you.” 

 

“So why didn’t you?” Kaimos said, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

 

“I got attacked by bandits.” 

 

All traces of irritation were gone, and if they hadn’t been on moving horses Molly was certain the man would have grabbed Tiny by the shoulders. “What?”

 

“They were dumb, and I’m fine. These two helped me.” Tiny said, looking slightly miserable now that she’d been scolded. Kaimos squinted at the both of them, and Molly waved jauntily.

 

“Mollymauk Tealeaf. Pleased to be of assistance during this rescue you didn’t need.” He said, grinning. 

 

“Shakäste.” Shakäste said, nodding his head in the direction of Kaimos. “If I had known you weren’t in any danger I would have stopped the both of them from doing anything.” 

 

Kaimos nodded lightly. “Pleasure to meet you both, and I appreciate it. And for helping Tiny.” He sighed. “Hopefully now we can get back on track.”

 

Molly’s ears pricked up, his curiosity piqued. “On track for what?”

 

“I’m a druid, as I’m sure you noticed. Tiny is as well, my apprentice. Part of my job in my circle is to make a yearly trip to quite a few sacred places; to check on them, make offerings, and ensure everything is alright. It gives Tiny plenty of learning opportunities, but can also cause troubles on the road.” 

 

“Interesting.” Shakäste said. “Is there any place in particular you would like us to drop you off? We’re headed to Zadash, most likely via Felderwin.” 

 

“We’re _ kinda  _ going that way. But we gotta go through forests.” Tiny said, her shoulders loosening slightly. 

 

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to put as much difference between us and that town as possible. But we won’t impose upon you any later than tomorrow morning.” Kaimos said. “We can certainly catch our own food.”

 

“It’s no problem. We don’t have much for you to impose upon.” Shakäste said, smiling. 

 

“The more company, the merrier.” Molly said, shrugging his shoulders. The more company, the less chance of being alone. 

 

“Very well then. We appreciate it.” Kaimos said, nodding politely to both of them. The rest of the day was thankfully uneventful, and with both Kaimos and Tiny there finding a safe spot to camp with shelter in case of rain was no trouble at all. 

 

Molly was almost feeling relaxed, a sensation that was quite rare for him these days. Staying with the Schuster’s in Hupperdook was probably the closest he’d gotten, and even then he’d been buzzing with excitement and horror at all that he’d learned and all that he’d realised he’d forgotten. 

 

Of course, Kaimos and Tiny had to vanish - almost literally, one moment they were there, the next second they were gone - into the forest to find food for them all, Kaimos stubbornly refusing to allow Shakäste to use up any of their rations when he could get some fresh meat for them. 

 

Which was all well and good because fresh meat was delicious, but it left Molly and Shakäste alone.

 

It only took about three seconds of quiet staring for Molly to realise most certainly that Shakäste hadn’t forgotten about yesterday. 

 

It took another four minutes of silence and Molly looking anywhere except at Shakäste for him to know that he wasn’t going to drop it. 

 

Even if he hadn’t actually done anything except arch one eyebrow and sit a close, but not too close distance from Molly. Always letting him know he was there.

 

Waiting. 

 

Forever if he had to. 

 

Damn, he was good. 

 

“Today sure was fun.” Molly said all too cheerfully.

 

“That it was.” Shakäste said, exhaling deeply. If Molly didn’t know any better he’d think Shakäste wasn’t actually trying anything at all, or waiting for him to open up.

 

That suave sonofabitch. 

 

He hadn’t done a single damned thing but Molly already felt like squirming and chasing after Tiny and Kaimos into the forest. 

 

Still, if Shakäste could feign ignorance he could too. Beat him at his own game, that’d show him.

 

“So, how much longer do you think until we get to Zadash?” He asked, leaning back against a boulder and tucking his hands behind his neck. 

 

“At the rate we’re going, stopping every other day, it could be a month.” Shakäste said, shrugging like he didn’t particular care if it would take them a year. 

 

“Ah, what’s the point in doing anything if it’s not an adventure?” Molly retorted, smirking in the old man’s direction. 

 

If Shakäste could arch his eyebrow any higher it would probably launch off of his face, but that was the only sign that he was still very much wanting to Talk, with a capital ‘t’. Still, Molly was fairly certain he wouldn’t push it, at least not directly.

 

“True, but I personally enjoy adventures where I don’t have to worry about my friends freezing up in the middle of battle.” 

 

Molly’s smile faltered, and he was certain his skin became three shades paler than usual. The locks and barriers he had hastily shoved up in his mind threatened to buckle, his heart starting to pound.

 

Apparently his certainty was misplaced. 

 

Shakäste’s eyes narrowed like he’d seen exactly what he’d hoped not to see, and he shook his head lightly. 

 

“Mollymauk, I do not mention this lightly, and I do not wish to pry.” He said, his voice slow and somehow deeper than usual. “But I do not want something like that to happen again. I managed to raise you from the dead once, I don’t have the materials to do it again.” 

 

A nervous chuckle escaped Molly’s lips before he could stop it, his throat dry. He stared up at the pink and purple-tinged sky, colours shifting every moment as the sun slipped further below the horizon. 

 

The memory haunted him from the dark corner he’d shoved it into. He could feel a pinprick in his chest, the beating of his heart pounding in his ears.

 

He could tell Shakäste right now. Tell him he’d remembered how he died. How it happened. Who did it. The old man certainly wouldn’t tell anyone, he was certain of that. 

 

It wouldn’t change anything, and it certainly wouldn’t help them find the Mighty Nein any faster. But perhaps talking about it, saying it out loud, getting it out of his head and into the air, would help.

 

Perhaps.

 

He glanced in Shakäste’s direction, and the old man was simply sitting cross-legged, waiting for Molly to decide. It was almost frustrating how damned patient he was.

 

No. 

 

Some things… some things were too much to say aloud. Some memories never deserved to see the light of day again.

 

How he’d died didn’t matter anymore. The haunting face Beau had made in the corner of his eye as she realised he was falling didn’t matter. It was in the past. 

 

It was in the past and it didn’t matter. It was a worthless memory, and worthless memories couldn’t hurt him.

 

“I’m fine.” He said, keeping his voice as even as possible. “I just need some time to work through it. By myself”

 

It was impossible to tell if Shakäste believed him. If he kept telling himself he might even end up believing it. Eventually. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to call this section of the story 'Molly has shitty coping methods and it fucks up everything' :)  
> Well, not really. It only nearly fucks up everything. 
> 
> Also, fuckin druids man. They be wild.


	11. Deflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Molly declares himself leader.

Tiny and Kaimos returned with three small rabbits and a squirrel, which Kaimos got to work on skinning while Tiny and Shakäste set up the fire and got it going. Molly, wanting to do anything except stay sitting where Shakäste could watch him and quietly offer his support - the bastard - shuffled over to Kaimos.

 

Kaimos was quite tall, seeming even taller when in comparison to Tiny, but still a good head above Molly. His horns, unlike Molly’s were long and curved down along the outside of his head, rather than twisting into a circle-ish shape like Molly’s and Tiny’s did. Looking closer now, he could see his clothes were rough and dirty but more robe-like than Tiny’s mismatched clothes, giving him more of a druid-like appearance than his apprentice. . 

 

_ “Mollymauk, correct?”  _ Kaimos spoke in a deep voice, guttural and not at all what Molly had been expecting. Somehow his brain recognised it as a different language, but he could still understand it. His eyes widened but he quickly recovered himself.

 

“ _ In the flesh _ .” Okay now that was freaky. He couldn’t hide his own surprise at speaking in the same weird language, practically fluently. 

 

_ “You are unfamiliar with the Infernal tongue?”  _ Kaimos asked, one eyebrow raised. 

 

“The what now?” Now that he was thinking about it, the strange words fell out of Molly’s mind and he stuck right back at Common. Glancing out the corner of his eye he could see Tiny looking at them curiously, her ears flicking in their direction.

 

Kaimos cleared his throat. “The native speech of all tieflings. A language ingrained in our minds from the day we are born. Have you never spoken it before?”

 

Okay, that barely made sense, but Molly wasn’t in the mood to question it, far more interested in the entire  _ language  _ he apparently knew how to speak instinctively.

 

“I honestly have no idea.” He grinned. 

 

“How so? Have you never encountered another tiefling in your entire life?” Now Kaimos seemed extremely interested, and over by the fire, Tiny was as well. Shakäste didn’t look like he was listening, but he probably was. Perhaps a secret language could have some uses. 

 

“No, I have.” He said, thinking of the childish drawings of Jester in one of his coat pockets. “I just don’t really remember talking to her much.”

 

“How interesting.” Kaimos said. He didn’t seem interested in asking about why he’d never heard or spoken Infernal - or could remember doing it, which Molly was thankful for. That meant he was able to give out exactly as much information as he wanted.

 

“It’s a long story, but there’s a lot of things I don’t remember.” He said, smirking. “So if there’s any other common knowledge you’d like to drop on me, feel free.” 

 

“Well, most of my knowledge is rather restricted to druidic magic. Unless you happen to be a druid yourself?” Kaimos asked, one eyebrow raised. 

 

Molly thought for a moment before deciding definitely not. If he could shapeshift into different animals, a disguise kit to sneak into a hospital wouldn’t have been necessary. 

 

“I sincerely doubt it.” He said with as straight a face as he could. 

 

Kaimos chuckled lightly, looking down at the rabbit he was skinning. “In that case, I’m not sure how much help I can be. Tieflings in general have quite good dark vision, along with a resistance to fire, if you haven’t figured that out already. Though that doesn’t mean you can go swimming in lava pits. Tiny suggested that the first time I told her.” 

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

 

‘Our heritage gives us instinctive knowledge of Infernal, of course, and access to a few cantrips even for a non- regular magic user, if you know what to do.”

 

Molly’s eyes sparkled at the mention of cantrips. Magic? He wouldn’t be so irritated by it if he could do it himself. Kaimos noticed his face and smiled.

 

“I can tell you a little about them. Thaumaturgy is the most basic, you can do quite a few little things like make your voice louder, change the colour of your eyes, open and close unlocked doors and windows, change the colour of a fire. Very useful if you want to surprise someone.” Kaimos grimaced a little, and Molly distantly wondered how many times Tiny had caught him off guard when she’d first learned about Thaumaturgy. Or how many times Jester might have caught  _ him -  _ and the rest of the Mighty Nein - off guard. It felt like exactly the kind of cantrip she’d exploit to her fullest abilities.

 

Curious about the whole thing, Molly glanced around him for something to try out this cantrip on, assuming he could do it. His eyes fell on the fire that Tiny and Shakäste were seated around, that was slowly beginning to build to full strength. An idea crossed his mind.

 

He focused carefully on the fire, raising a hand just in case that helped and feeling slightly self-conscious because of it. An image flashed through his mind of a past him holding up his hand as someone breathed fire, a simple circus trick that was impressive enough on its own. But if the fire changed colour as well? Audiences loved it. It was the least he could do, since he had no act of his own. 

 

The orange and yellow flames flickered for a moment, before flashing a bright pink colour. The colour only held for a moment before the effect vanished, returning the fire to its original state. Tiny, who had been staring straight at the fire at the time, nearly jumped backwards, head whipping directly at Kaimos, who simply pointed at Molly.

 

He grinned. “Brilliant. What else is there?”

 

“Well, there’s a Hellish Rebuke, which I don’t recommend trying out right now. Essentially, if you point your finger at an enemy and insult them in Infernal, they’ll catch on fire. It doesn’t always work if they’re nimble enough, but it can be useful if you really want to scare someone.” 

 

Molly’s ears pricked up. That sounded  _ very  _ useful. And fun. If it worked. 

 

Eh, surely it’d work. His pre-death self was probably great at it. 

 

“There’s also Darkness, which is pretty self-explanatory. You can just make complete darkness in an area you choose. That’s about it usually, though some tieflings have different abilities depending on their specific heritage and whatnot.”

 

“How interesting.” Molly mused all the different ways he could use these cantrips, as well as wondering how often he’d used them before. 

 

Now that he thought about it, Darkness probably would have been useful in the hospital heist too. A bit difficult to catch someone if you can’t see them. Hellish Rebuke might have been overkill but Thaumaturgy probably could have created some kind of distraction. 

 

The fact that about three minutes of thinking created a plan a hundred times better than the one that was apparently implemented never failed to make Molly grin. After all, like he’d told Shakäste, what was the point in doing anything if it wasn’t an adventure? Or rather, if it didn’t have a few dozen opportunities for things to go horribly, hilariously wrong. 

 

“Well, I think I’m done here. We’d best get these on the fire.” Kaimos said, standing up with the skinned and cleaned animals and walking over to the fire. Molly followed him, sitting in between Kaimos and Shakäste and the other two tieflings took the animals and began to cook them.

 

It was funny, Molly supposed, how truly irritating amnesia could be. He, or his body at least, seemed to remember how to do most things like swing a scimitar or walk or talk (eventually). All basic things that one generally learned as an infant. But while basic skills had been retained, all the small things that one usually didn’t notice had vanished.

 

Like the knowledge that he could speak another language. Or use magic. Who knew if there was any other magic he could do. There was no spellbook or components pouch in any of his pockets, but there were other kinds of magic, surely. There could be dozens of things Molly would be able to do, if just he could remember he could actually do them. 

 

Going on from that, there had to be a way to figure it out. Jumping into any battle he came across might work, since that would at least give him an opportunity to use Hellish Rebuke and see how it works. Perhaps it would trigger something, a memory of himself using it in the past, or seeing Jester use it, who knew. Or a memory of his own death or similarly traumatic experience.

 

Of course, just about anything might help him remember something. His life pre-death seemed quite varied from his perspective. As far as he could tell from the handful of memories he had and everything he’d been told, his life could be fairly handily separated into two sections. 

 

Time spent living in a circus, and time with the Mighty Nein. He’d been with the circus for at least a year and seven months, probably longer. Since they hadn’t even come up with the name the Mighty Nein when they first ran into Shakäste, it was probably safe to say that Molly hadn’t spent as much time with them. Perhaps just a month or two. Strangely enough though, they were still the ones he wanted to go back to. There were happy feelings associated to the circus, but they were bittersweet, like his mind was telling him the circus wasn’t really an option for him anymore. 

 

Molly watched the meat begin to cook on the fire, Kaimos and Tiny turning it over every now and then, a delicious aroma drifting into the air. 

 

So the circus had been nearly two years, with the Mighty Nein probably rounding out that time. He wasn’t sure if he had gone straight from the circus to the Mighty Nein, but he hadn’t yet remembered anything that said he hadn’t. 

 

But he hadn’t remembered anything else beyond that time frame either. Anything beyond maybe two years ago was just… not there. If his memories from the Mighty Nein and the circus was hidden behind a veil, everything before that was stuck behind a brick wall and he had nothing but his bare hands to try and tear it down. Now that Molly was thinking about the math, that didn’t seem right. 

 

A shiver ran down his spine even though he didn’t feel cold, and he could feel Shakäste’s eyes upon him. Perhaps he could sense Molly’s discomfort. He could telepathically connect with a hummingbird, Molly wouldn’t put any other kind of psychic ridiculousness past him. It’s not like he’d know if it was actually possible or not. 

 

“Shakäste.” 

 

“Yes?”

 

“Did I ever mention my age when we first met?” It was a dumb question. They had been preparing to fight gnolls and manticores when they first met, age was a slightly less important concern over things like ‘can you hold a weapon without stabbing yourself?’.

 

At least, that’s what Molly imagined it was like. 

 

“No, I don’t believe you did. I don’t think it was quite relevant to the matter at hand.” Shakäste said. “Why do you ask?”

 

Molly shrugged. “Because I have no clue.” He said, mentally filing his age away as the latest piece of information he likely wouldn’t find out unless he remembered his latest birthday or reunited with the Mighty Nein and they told him. 

 

Shakäste ‘hmm’ed, taking a sip of water. “Well, neither do I.”

 

Tiny and Kaimos both shrugged, and Molly thought to himself quickly.

 

“Very well then. In the absence of any other evidence, I now declare myself to be eighty seven.” 

 

Shakäste nearly spat out the water he’d been drinking, while Kaimos visibly stifled a laugh. Tiny squinted in his direction, as if she wasn’t sure if he was being serious or not. The solemn face he was very deliberately making probably didn’t help her any. 

 

“Pray tell, how did you come to that conclusion?” Shakäste asked, one hand on his chest and the other tying the cap back on the waterskin. 

 

“Is it older than you?” Molly asked, plastering on his most innocent face. Kaimos’ eyes widened, while Shakäste blinked once. Tiny, for her part, still seemed utterly confused. Teenagers. 

 

“I refuse to answer that question.” 

 

“I’ll assume it is then.” Molly grinned. “In that case, as the oldest and obviously wisest member of this group, I declare myself leader.” 

 

“And why is your age suddenly so important?” Shakäste said, quickly recovering his normal serenity.

 

“I don’t remember how old I actually am, so I might as well decide to be an age that gets one some respect in society.” Molly preened, flicking some loose hair over his shoulder and puffing his chest out.

 

Tiny frowned. “Wouldn’t that only work if you  _ look  _ old too, though?” 

 

“Well, now here’s where it’s clever. Most people I imagine don’t like to admit when they’re getting older.” Molly winked mischievously in Shakäste’s direction. “So if I claim to be eighty seven, they won’t believe I have any reason at all to be lying, even if I look decades younger.”

 

All three of his companions just looked at him for a moment.

 

“Truly, your experiences have granted you a wealth of wisdom.” Shakäste deadpanned, more sarcastically than Molly had ever heard him. 

  
It was amazing. 

 

“I don’t get it.” Tiny sighed, resting her head in her hands and leaning forward, looking at the fire. 

 

Molly just beamed, spending the rest of the evening trying to wheedle Shakäste’s actual age out of him (sadly Shakäste was tight-lipped about it) and changing the colour of the fire every five seconds. Bye the end of it he couldn’t help looking at the regular fire and think about how boring it was. 

 

When Kaimos and Shakäste volunteered for first watch, he was so distracted he didn’t think anything of it, marvelling at how Tiny basically fell unconscious within two seconds, and lying down on his now-clean tapestry/makeshift bedroll looking up at the stars through the trees.

 

Then he fell asleep. 

 

By the time Shakäste gently shook his shoulder to wake him up for his turn on watch, unaware that he’d already been awake for an hour by that point, he knew very well that his dreams didn’t care how deeply he buried some memories, or how much he wanted to ignore them or how much they didn’t matter. He’d guessed as much the previous night but somehow it got even worse.

 

Because when he was asleep his mind could just play it over and over and over again. Eventually it was less painful to just go without the sleep entirely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molly's list of experiences learned in infancy:
> 
> \- Walking  
> \- Talking  
> \- Swinging Scimitars  
> \- Advanced Blood Rituals 101 Probably  
> \- Eating Food Properly
> 
> Also this story is by far my longest story on this site and I'm amazed


	12. Storytime with Shakäste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I trip and accidentally spill out some of my Shakäste backstory headcanons.

Just as Kaimos had promised, he and Tiny packed up to leave the following morning, although that didn’t really involve anything except standing up and announcing it was time for them to leave. Ah, the life of few possessions. 

 

The separation was quick and simple, shaking hands before Kaimos and Tiny disappeared into the forest with a final thanks and a wave, and Molly and Shakäste set out on their horses again. 

 

For some time, as usual, things were quiet. Molly because he was still tired and he didn’t want to complain about it and thus be asked  _ why  _ he was so tired, and Shakäste because meditative silence seemed to be his thing. If he had something to say that didn’t need to be said immediately, he’d happily wait a few hours just to draw out the tension so that whenever he  _ did  _ say what he wanted to say, it was even more impactful.

 

Maybe. Who knew. It was hard to tell what the dude was thinking at any given moment. 

 

Whatever it was, it gave Molly plenty of time to practise his new cantrips. Hellish Rebuke was still currently off the table, and the few times he’d attempted Darkness he hadn’t been able to do anything, so he ended up spending at least an hour making pointless but highly entertaining effects with Thaumaturgy. 

 

“Must you really do this?” Shakäste deadpanned after Molly managed to flick his cloak over his head for the sixth time in a row. Stacy, having moved her perch from the top of Shakäste’s head to his shoulder, made a lot of presumably angry chirping sounds that didn’t quite have the desired effect, considering Stacy was a tiny hummingbird. Kiri with her dagger had been far more intimidating. Well, actually the dagger itself was more intimidating. Kiri was only slightly intimidating by virtue of holding said dagger. 

 

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” Molly sincerely hoped Shakäste was looking through Stacy’s eyes at the moment, purely so he could see Molly’s giant shit-eating grin. “I’m just practising the magic I’d forgotten I had.”

 

“There are spells to erase memories again, you know.” Shakäste continued using the same utterly bored tone he had before.

 

Pretending to be offended, Molly flicked Shakäste’s cloak back off his face so that it was resting properly. “Shakäste! Is that a threat?” 

 

An empty one, to be sure. Molly doubted Shakäste would do something like that. Or that he even  _ knew  _ a spell like that. It didn’t sound like a cleric-ey type spell.

 

Distantly Molly remembered the strange shimmering bust that Shakäste had conjured out of nothing to use as a weapon. An image of a similarly shimmery lollipop flew through the air in the back of his mind. 

 

Hmm. Just to be safe, Molly decided to leave Shakäste’s cloak alone. 

 

After a minute or two of nothing else happening to his cloak, Shakäste huffed in satisfaction, a slight smile on his face to show he really wasn’t that serious. 

 

“So what are the chances of nothing else happening to us until we get to Zadash?” Molly asked, now not quite wanting them to lapse into silence once again.

 

“Considerably low. Both of us are absolute magnets for trouble.” Shakäste said, and Molly’s ears pricked up like a dog who’d spotted his dinner. 

 

He’d certainly already figured out that  _ he  _ was a magnet for trouble, based on everything that had happened in the past week and all of his memories he’d regained so far. A day  _ without  _ trouble seemed more of a rarity than the other way around in his life. 

 

But Shakäste? He exuded a far more calming aura, not one Molly would normally associate with a walking disaster like him. Such a quality seemed compulsory for being one of the Mighty Nein, even if Molly considered himself a very attractive walking disaster who certainly knew how to handle himself - no matter how many deaths or near misses claimed otherwise. 

 

“Oh?” He said loudly, letting amusement seep into his voice. “And what trouble plagues you?”

 

“Most recently?” Shakäste paused for a moment. “You.”

 

Scoffing, Molly cast Thaumaturgy and made Shakäste’s cloak fly over his head once again, memory erasing spells be damned. “I’ll have you know I am a  _ blessing  _ from the  _ gods _ .” 

 

“Aren’t tieflings descended from fiends?” 

 

“Aren’t humans descended from monkeys?” 

 

Both men glanced at each other, grinning. Molly let the moment hang in the air for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing. “No, but really. I want to hear about some of the adventures you’ve had. Unless your life only started getting interesting once the Mighty Nein arrived. I wouldn’t be surprised, we’re absolutely nonsense. But incredible nonsense, so.” He shrugged. 

 

Shakäste scoffed, but seemed to consider the question. 

 

“I’ll be honest, much of my life was rather boring. I was born in a small town, raised in a small town, and figured I’d die in a small town. My aspirations were… not much.” Shakäste shrugged, his shoulders deflating, and Molly perked up. 

 

Ooh, was he actually telling a story? About his  _ life _ ? Shakäste exuded so much mystery, Molly had half-expected him to refuse to say anything out of principle, lest it ruin his persona.

 

“I thought I’d find a nice girl, settle down and have a family, take over my parents farm. And I would have been happy with that kind of life. Nearly had it, for a while.” Shakäste looked upwards, seeming to gaze blankly off into the distance. Molly was already bursting to ask questions, to get more details, but he didn’t dare interrupt. 

 

But Shakäste trailed off, conflicted emotions crossing his face too quickly to parse through to find their meaning. Molly waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. 

 

Ah, screw it. 

 

“What… happened?” He asked, carefully enunciating each syllable, keeping his voice relatively quiet. 

 

Shakäste didn’t answer immediately, and Molly almost thought that that tiny snippet was all he was ever going to get, until the human took a deep, heaving breath, absentmindedly stroking the top of Stacy’s head from where she had migrated to Shakäste’s left hand. 

 

“Alfield wasn’t the only town terrorised by gnolls.” He said, sighing. “But mine was too small to have any Crownsguard, too out of the way to have many travelling parties willing to offer help. We had nothing to pay them with anyway.” 

 

“So… what did you do?” Molly was hesitant to ask the questions despite his burning curiosity.

 

“Well, we tried to fight them. Me and anyone else in the town who was willing and old enough.” 

 

Shakäste took in a shuddering breath, his gaze falling downwards and his eyes half-closing. 

 

“We didn’t win.” It was a very blunt statement, but one laced with subtle emotion. “Many of us died. My friends, my…” He noticeably winced, before shaking his head lightly and carrying on. “Those of us who remained fled to the next closest town that had some measure of protection. That was when I began learning to be a cleric. If only I’d done it sooner.”

 

Molly was silent, waiting to see if Shakäste would continue. What was he supposed to say to that? ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t seem like it would cut it.

 

After trying to think of a response and his mind coming up blank for once, Molly settled for pulling his horse a little closer to Shakäste’s, patting him twice quickly on the shoulder. He felt slightly uncomfortable doing any more than that, since Shakäste tended to hold himself so… separate to everyone else. 

 

It wasn’t like he actively isolated himself from others, or acted aloof. He had danced with Molly and others during Hupperdook, he was happy to let the Schuster children tug at his cloak and pat his afro in awe of it’s ‘puffiness’ (in their words), and he’d placed his hand on Molly’s shoulder more than once as a grounding, comforting gesture.

 

But that all felt different. Around others, and around Molly most of the time, Shakäste usually just seemed… well, unflappable. Nothing really fazed him, and if an explosion occurred beyond the trees his only reaction would probably be to glance in that direction and muse ‘well, should we take a look?’. He was the sort of man who  _ gave  _ comfort, not the sort of man who received it.

 

Distantly, Molly wondered how long Shakäste had been that sort of man. Silently, he patted Shakäste’s shoulder one more time.

 

“You know, when I said adventure, I was thinking more about ridiculous shit like breaking a druid who can turn into a mouse out of jail. The kind of stuff smart people avoid doing.” He said quietly, chuckling nervously more to himself than to anyone else.

 

Shakäste scoffed hollowly. “Usually I am that smart person.” 

 

“Then you must be absolutely loving having me around.” It wasn’t anywhere close to the cheerful banter they’d been having earlier. That mood had been thoroughly killed for the day. 

 

“It’s been the second most stressful week of my life.” There was a hint of the Shakäste Molly had gotten used to. Impossible to tell if he was being serious or not.

 

“Someday you’ll have to tell me about the first.”

 

Shakäste chuckled, but there was no life in it. “Someday, perhaps.”

 

“I’ll hold you to that.” Molly forced a smile, but it faded after seeing that Shakäste didn’t return it. He was looking forwards again, at something and nothing at the same time. That was the problem with Shakäste being blind. So many emotions were conveyed through the eyes, with little looks upwards and downwards and to the sides, and if they didn’t work properly then so much was just… lost. It was just another factor that added to Shakäste’s mysterious aura of being someone who always seemed slightly beyond things. There and present, but with a wisdom that few could match.

 

“I’m sure you will.” 

 

Usually Shakäste’s feelings - or the ones he wanted people to see - came through just fine through his words or other facial expressions, but when the rest of his face was kept in a steely mask and he’d fallen silent, there was nothing. 

 

Molly thought he might actually prefer Shakäste sitting and silently offering to be his therapist. 

 

They rode on in silence, the road for once devoid of other travellers. Even the birds seemed quieter than usual, as if out of respect for a story that was rarely told. The sky above them was dotted with clouds that blotted out the sun every so often, bring a chilled breeze until they shifted, allowing the sun to stream down upon them again.

 

Forests eventually became thinner, allowing them to see further. Mountain ranges loomed behind them and to the west, mostly marking the edges of the Dwendelian Empire, as Shakäste had once mentioned this land had been named. In front of them the roads were mostly flat, hazy hills and potentially cities far in the distance but most things eventually blocked by trees and rocks. 

 

Molly’s fingers fidgeted, his eyes flicking over to Shakäste every few seconds. Dammit, he was great at sitting silently and just being there in case he was needed, but Molly certainly wasn’t. He felt far more like  _ doing  _ something, but he wasn’t sure what. 

 

“I’m sorry you lost your town.” He finally said, mentally berating himself the moment the words left his mouth because ‘ _ what the fuck why is he bringing that up of all things _ ’ and wincing. The only way he might have made it worse would have been to bring up the friends and whoever else he’d lost. Oh gods he’d fucked up. 

 

“Ah, I don’t care about the town anymore.” Shakäste shook his head lightly. “It wasn’t home.”

 

It was just enough information that Molly could form an idea of what he meant, but as usual, just cryptic enough that he couldn’t really be sure. Still, taking note that Shakäste didn’t seem particularly mad, Molly hesitantly decided to push, just a little further. 

 

“What do you mean? You said you lived there your whole life.” 

 

“I did. But the town itself wasn’t home.” 

 

“Uh…” Molly’s voice trailed off, still trying to understand but obviously missing some important context clue. 

 

“It’s something my wife said. Home isn’t where you’re from, it’s where you belong. Some of us travel the whole world to find it. Others, find it in people. My home was my family.” His voice trailed off, and Molly let the words sink in, wishing he could ignore that very important past tense in that final statement. Was. 

 

Shakäste’s words were tinged with emotions, ones Molly couldn’t quite interpret. His words hung in the air, their surroundings almost silent except for the rhythmic hoofbeats of their horses. 

 

“You wife sounds very wise.” Molly spoke so quietly for a moment he thought Shakäste wouldn’t even hear him. 

 

“She was, my boy.” Shakäste tilted his head ever so slightly in Molly’s direction, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. “She was.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn't love a good 'my whole town is destroyed and all my family is probably dead lol' story????? Haha. hAHhahahaahahahaa   
> Anyway I hope y'all enjoy angst cause there's some of it coming. (:


	13. Molly Fucks Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the chapter title says it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, starting this story: u know it's not gonna be super angsty, it's just gonna be a wholesome roadtrip with Molly and Shakäste, recovering memories, having a good time, and shamelessly shoving in my OCs at any possible opportunity, it's gonna be great.  
> Me now: (:

For once, the universe left them alone for longer than a day. Three days, in fact. They passed through one more town without incident, though Shakäste noted that they were beginning to run low on funds, and would probably have to stock up at Felderwin, which was apparently a large town that bordered on being called a city, and hopefully the last major stop before arriving at Zadash.

 

Of course, Felderwin was still a good two days away, and Zadash another three after that. In the grand scheme of things, five days wasn’t very far at all. But since Molly only had eight days worth of solid, complete memories, it felt like a very long time.

 

Three days without nothing interesting happening was nearly unbearable. Molly and Shakäste whittled the time away with idle chit chat and practising spells. Shakäste showed off a few of his own to see if Molly was able to do any of them, and when that failed he described as many spells as he could think of. None of them really worked. Shakäste told him some stories about his home, talking about how he used to climb trees with his son, the first time he met his wife - a ridiculously raunchy and alcohol-filled one night stand that somehow blossomed into actual romance because of course Shakäste would manage that - and childhood memories of hiding in fields waiting for his own parents to come find him. It was the kind of sweet domesticity that Molly could never imagine for himself, much less picture Shakäste living. Yet apparently he had, and he spoke about it with a tone tinged with fondness and bittersweetness of a time long gone and buried.  

 

Yet despite all that, there was still so much they didn’t say. Molly had insisted on taking the bulk of the watches every night, letting Shakäste sleep so that his own shift was longer so that by the time he finally got to sleep there was no time for dreams. Even if dreams was where he saw most of his memories in the greatest detail, his dreams had the awful habit of becoming nightmares more often than not now. So he’d rather skip that entirely, thanks.

 

But Shakäste was no fool, and as each day dragged on Molly knew his seemingly infinite patience was running out. Still, Molly intended to stretch it as far as possible because he’d rather die again than discuss his more unsavoury memories, as his friend obviously intended him to.

 

It was in the past anyway, he told himself. It didn’t matter at all that he was quite literally chasing after his past right now anyway, that was completely and utterly different. As soon as he got back to the Mighty Nein, everything would be fine again, Beau would call him an asshole, Jester would make a joke, and they would all laugh about the whole misadventure. He was rather lucky after all, since he still had people he could return to, friends he could count on. After hearing Shakäste’s story, he actually felt more determined than ever to figure things out on his own. If Shakäste could manage to bounce back from his home being destroyed, he could bounce back from dying. Definitely. Absolutely. No way this could go wrong at all (no he was NOT in denial, thank you very much). 

 

Riding along a practically deserted road towards Felderwin, Molly occupied his time spinning one of his scimitars over and over in his hand, seeing how fancy he could get his tricks without dropping it. Extremely fancy apparently, he thought to himself as he managed to flip the scimitar over his head and catch it in his other hand without cutting himself. 

 

Of course, based on all the scars that covered his chest and arms, he hadn’t always been successful. Some of the scars looked newer than others, and Molly wished he could remember how he had gotten them all, since there were so many. 

 

If they were really all from practising his scimitar tricks, then his past self must have been really dedicated to spinning a scimitar really well. Perhaps he’d been intending to make it an act in the circus, though he hadn’t remembered doing anything of the sort. Still thinking about it, he spun the scimitar in his other hand, preparing to throw it again while stifling a yawn. 

 

It was constantly frustrating. He still remembered things, little flashes and moments that were usually brought on by sights and sounds. But none of his memories were longer than a few minutes, and far more often they were snippets barely seconds long. It was enough to give him a brief overview of the past two years of his life, but hardly any details. He might be able to recognise someone he knew, but he’d be hard-pressed to say much about them. It was only thanks to Shakäste and the Schuster’s that he’d remembered enough about the Mighty Nein to feel that he actually  _ knew  _ them. 

 

Suddenly, there was a slice on Molly’s arm, pain shooting up through his veins as a scimitar, having been absentmindedly thrown up into the air, clattered to the ground. Molly hissed, pulling on the reins of his horse to bring him to a stop, even as he felt a strange energy begin to build underneath his skin, the pain already fading. Still there, as droplets of blood seeped out of the thin wound, but faded.

 

“Molly?” Shakäste stopped his horse as well, looking at him curiously. “You alright?” 

 

Molly didn’t answer, his eyes wide as he looked down at his arm. That didn’t seem normal. Maybe the lack of sleep was getting to him. 

 

He climbed off his horse to pick up the dropped scimitar, a strangely familiar sensation that he vaguely recognised from when he’d cast Thaumaturgy running through his veins. The feeling only heightened as he picked up the scimitar, watching with wide eyes as literal ice began to coat the blade, materialising out of seemingly nowhere and crawling from the hilt all the way to the tip. Molly whistled lowly. This was magic. Either that or he was hallucinating from a lack of sleep.

 

“Well that’s certainly something.” He said, spinning the scimitar in his hands once. It felt slightly different in a way he couldn’t quite describe. As if it were a part of him, rather than a simple weapon he was holding. “Hmm.”

 

“What happened?” Shakäste asked, frowning. Stacy flew off from his shoulder to land on Molly’s horn, and after a moment Shakäste made a light ‘Oh’. 

 

“Oh, nothing. Just blood magic, apparently.” Molly shrugged, poking at the cut on his arm before swinging the scimitar. Yes, it definitely felt different, even on top of the whole ice thing. He had a distinct feeling that if he hit an enemy now, even more interesting things could happen.

 

Fun, mysterious, blood magicky things. 

 

Ah, the more he learned about his life, the more interesting it became, and the more questions he had. Questions that would likely never get answered. 

 

“That might explain a few things.” Shakäste said. 

 

Molly climbed back up onto his horse, feeling a buzz from the new energy running within him. “Indeed. I’d thought I was just very clumsy, but I suppose all these scars were intentional.” 

 

“Apparently so. Any idea what kind of blood magic it is?” They set off again, Molly tucking his scimitar back onto his belt. He could feel the energy begin to fade, but he had a feeling it wasn’t very useful at this moment in time anyway.

 

“I haven’t the faintest idea.” He said cheerfully. “Ice blood magic? Somehow? For fighting?” 

 

“Seems rather counter productive to hurt yourself into order to fight someone.” Shakäste mused, frowning. 

 

“Everything in my life seems to be counter-productive.” Molly chuckled.

 

Shakäste paused for a moment like he was considering whether to say something or not, and Molly could have sworn Stacy began side-eyeing him from where she had moved to the top of Shakäste’s head.

 

“Ah, like how you haven’t been sleeping properly, for example?” Oh no. “And purposefully ignoring an incident that clearly isn’t resolved?” 

 

Shit-fuck-gods _ damnit- _

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Molly had no idea Shakäste could sound so forceful. “We both know exactly what I’m talking about.”

 

“Nope, I don’t think I do.” 

 

“Mollymauk.” 

 

Nope. Not opening this can of worms today, thanks, Molly thought to himself as he kicked his horse to go faster, breaking into a canter. But before he could get far Shakäste turned his own horse in front of his - seriously, he was a  _ horse riding  _ expert too? What couldn’t Shakäste do? - and stopping Molly in his tracks. 

 

Not about to be beaten so easily, Molly tried to go around Shakäste, but each time the old man managed to outmaneuver him. If Molly had had more than six hours of sleep over the past three nights he probably would have had more luck but… 

 

Well, suffice to say, Shakäste had far more control of his horse than Molly did. 

 

“Mollymauk, I can’t leave this alone any longer. You’re not sleeping and I need to know  _ why _ .” Shakäste’s voice still seemed as calm as ever, but there was an increasingly concerned tone to it that pricked the back of Molly’s neck and almost made him feel guilty.

 

But nope. Nope. This was his problem, not Shakäste’s. 

 

“I’ve got it handled.” He said, once again trying to maneuver his horse around Shakäste’s. Once again he was cut off, at this point both of them moving in a very strange circle. 

 

“Obviously you don’t.” Shakäste sighed. “I don’t want to push this-”

 

“Then  _ don’t _ .” Molly snapped. “Just leave it alone and we can keep going.” 

 

“Oh yes, and then I can watch you freeze up again in the next bandit attack? Or collapse from a lack of sleep?” 

 

“That won’t happen.” Molly snorted. Who knew Shakäste could be so pessimistic. “We probably won’t even run into anymore bandits-”

 

“But we might. It’s happened once, it could happen again.” Shakäste face was set in a steely resolve. 

 

“And if it does, we’ll be  _ fine _ .” Molly gritted his teeth together, now staring down Shakäste, who was unmoved. 

 

“And I wish I was convinced of that. But I’m not, and when it’s just the two of us I can’t afford to take that risk anymore.” Shakäste spoke each word with a devastating finality. “Something is wrong, and I don’t think you can handle it by yourself.”

 

It was nearly impossible to refute, because a small part of Molly knew it was true. But refute it he wanted to do anyway, because the  _ rest  _ of him said ‘fuck that’. 

 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He grumbled, fully aware that he hadn’t offered a single word that might actually reassure Shakäste nothing was wrong. Oh well. 

 

“Mollymauk-”

 

“I’m fine, Shakäste. Trust me. It’s just hard to sleep on the ground.” 

 

Molly was doing his very best not to make eye contact with Shakäste, but he could have sworn the man was actually scowling. 

 

“I’m not trying to fight you about this, Mollymauk. But we cannot afford sleep deprivation and panic attacks in the middle of a battle. I don’t want you to die again!” Somewhere along the line Shakäste had raised his voice, every syllable ringing in Molly’s ears even as he tried to drown it out with reasons why Shakäste was  _ wrong. _

 

His reasons were not very airtight. But Molly’s heart was pounding and he just wanted out of this conversation. If only Shakäste would just leave him alone. He could handle it, however much his actions said otherwise.

 

“Why? We only met for a single day before all of this!” He spoke over Shakäste, gripping his reins so tight his knuckles had gone pale. “Why do you care about whether I live or die so much? Is it just because you wasted a diamond on me already?” 

 

Shakäste’s eyes widened, his horse seeming to take a step back, Stacy letting out a light chirp that Molly didn’t even want to try and decipher. 

 

“It was not a waste.” Shakäste’s voice dropped, any surprise quickly vanishing from his face.

 

“Then why?” Molly’s tongue was flying faster than his brain could keep up now, and a tiny part of him knew it was only a matter of time before he said something he’d regret. “Is it because you think you might get hurt because of me?”

 

“I can handle myself-”

 

“So  _ why?! _ ” Why did Shakäste have to just be sitting there, back straight, always so completely fucking calm and collected and smooth, like he was one hundred percent in control one hundred percent of the time. Molly might have felt that way once too, at least a little bit. Before a glaive had stabbed him in the chest while he’d had no control over it at all. 

 

His shoulders trembled with emotions that he couldn’t even begin to name. “Why do you care so much?”

 

“You’re my friend, Mollymauk. Why would I not care?” Shakäste said, before sighing. “I understand you’re in a complicated situation, but if you talked about it-”

 

“No, there’s no way you could understand this.”    
  
“Try me.” 

 

Molly’s hands were beginning to shake, anger rumbling in his stomach. Anger at what, he had no idea. Anger at everything, at his memories, at his circumstances, at the majority of his past that remained stubbornly out of reach. But right now, all of it was aimed at Shakäste.

 

“I  _ died _ , Shakäste. I felt a blade pierce my chest while I lay on the ground, completely helpless to do  _ anything  _ about it.” No. He didn’t want to talk about this. The memory he had so carefully shoved into the darkest recesses of his mind sprung out full force.

 

“I felt nearly every single second of it. I don’t remember how old I am, or if I have a family, or if Mollymauk Tealeaf is even my real name. But I remember dying.” The taste of blood filled his mouth, impossible to tell if it was actually there or not. “I remember dying while Beau was right there, and Caleb and Nott were there and the others were-”

 

For a moment his words caught in his throat, a thudding realisation that the others had no place in that memory. Yasha and Jester and Fjord were absent in his final moments, and somehow his subconscious knew there was a very sinister reason as to why. He shook his head, focusing back on what he was saying. 

 

“It was worth it. I did something good, I know it, and I don’t regret it, but I fucking  _ died.  _ And I couldn’t do a single thing about it. I spent my time at the circus reading fortunes and futures for people, telling them what fate had in store for them, and I’m pretty sure half of it was bullshit but some of it wasn’t. And in the end I didn’t even have a hope of controlling my own fate.” Shakäste’s mouth opened like he was about to say something, but Molly quickly continued. He wasn’t done. He wasn’t even close. 

 

“I died, and there is no way  _ you  _ can help me to deal with that. You may have brought me back, and you can sit there with your infinite wisdom and magic you actually know about and memories of a home and a family and history, but you can’t-” 

 

Molly knew he was skirting dangerously close to a very dangerous line, one he couldn’t see and one he couldn’t discern the meaning of, but one that was there nevertheless. He didn’t care. 

 

“You can’t sit there and tell me I’ll be fine and that you understand because you can’t even  _ begin  _ to understand what it’s like to have everything you care about torn apart and in danger and you can’t do anything to stop it but take the hit and  _ die _ .” 

 

Shakäste’s face hardened, and in a split second Molly knew he hadn’t just taken a step over that imaginary boundary line, he’d taken a running start and  _ flown  _ over it. In that split second, everything Shakäste had told him about his family, his town, came flooding back. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck  _ fuck _ . 

 

The old man took a deep breath, actually seeming to get even taller in his saddle. “Mollymauk, you’ve been through a lot. You have every right to feel as you do. But if I could have chosen death over watching my own son die in front of me without being able to do a  _ damned  _ thing about it-” He paused, fire blazing behind every word but still somehow restrained. 

 

Shakäste let out a deep, shuddering breath, lowering his face and turning his horse around so that he was no longer facing Molly. If he still wanted to, Molly could kick his horse into a gallop like he’d been trying to do earlier and race away from this conversation. But he stayed, frozen. 

 

“When I say I understand something, I don’t lie. There are a great many ways to experience death without going through it yourself. But if you truly feel like you can handle it yourself, then very well. I won’t bother you about it again.” 

 

His voice dropped into bitterness, a tone that Molly hadn’t imagined coming out of Shakäste’s mouth. But he was quickly remembering that there was far more to Shakäste than his sauve appearance and manner let on.

 

Without another word, Shakäste nudged his horse into a trot, never looking back. Even Stacy, whose head usually bobbed around looking in every direction, stared ahead. Molly grit his teeth together, his hands still shaking and all that anger folding over with nowhere to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahahah I thought very long and very hard about this, and I'm only hoping it's not too OOC, but I've always seen Molly as a person who very much likes to be in control. When I say that, I mean in control of himself, his own destiny and his own life. He wanted to leave Lucien, whoever the fuck he was, behind, and forge his own path. He does what he wants, he sees himself in the right in basically every scenario (I think Taliesin said as much in one episode of Talks), and he doesn't enjoy other people butting in and telling him how to live his life. That, combined with a bit of panic over realising he is still very much a mortal man (nothing like death to bruise an ego), and only having one person to really rely on (no matter how awesome Shakäste is) rather than a whole circus or the Mighty Nein, leads to him saying things that shouldn't be said and fucking things up a tad in a heated moment. 
> 
> Yeah, I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about Molly. 
> 
> Don't worry though, this is probably the angstiest and mopiest Molly is ever going to get. Probably.


	14. Molly Tries To Stop Fucking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I can't stand being sad for too long and neither can Molly.

Molly was pretty sure he hadn’t spoken so little since he woke up.

 

Not because Shakäste was purposefully ignoring him, quite the opposite in fact. After a good thirty minutes of riding in complete silence, Shakäste had started up some small talk about the weather and what Felderwin was like, as if absolutely nothing had happened and everything was completely fine. Because acting like everything was normal was just a goddamned specialty of Shakäste, wasn’t it.

 

Molly, trailing at least two horse lengths behind Shakäste, couldn’t gather up the energy to respond to any of it, though. His brain was currently occupied being at war with the part of himself who was still thoroughly convinced that he hadn’t done anything wrong, and the other part that wanted to slap him for even entertaining the thought, screaming an endless stream of ‘ _ what the fuckkkkkkk how did you fuck up this badly’  _ at him. Hard to tell which part of him was winning.

 

When they made camp, Shakäste acted like he didn’t even notice Molly lying awake under their tent while he was supposed to be sleeping, and Molly slowly became convinced that even this was an elaborate tactic to get him to open up, because Shakäste just couldn’t quit. 

 

It made sense, in a way. If you can’t convince someone to open up, and they won’t do it themselves, just outlast them. Maybe speed it along with a healthy dose of guilt. Godsdamnit, the guy was a master. 

 

Still, even if Shakäste had nearly endless amounts of patience, side-eye and innocuous stories about the clouds in the sky that may or may not hold valuable life lessons if only Molly engaged in them, Molly had some things almost just as powerful. A ridiculous ego inherited from a past life, no matter how shaken it currently was, an endless amount of spite, and a lack of memories that might let him know whether such a combination had ever actually  _ worked  _ in his favour in the past. 

 

So by the time they got to Felderwin, an outsider might say that the only thing that had changed was that Molly wasn’t talking as much. That outsider would be completely wrong. 

 

Felderwin was an impressive city, with tall stone buildings rising above the treeline long before they actually reached the borders of the city. A huge stone wall blocked those buildings off from the small wooden and stone buildings that made up the outskirts of the city and where the majority of the population lived. 

 

The streets were bustling as Molly and Shakäste rode through them, on the lookout for shops to restock their supplies. Shakäste took the lead while Molly brooded behind him, still mentally trying to convince himself that surely none of this was  _ his  _ fault even though he knew perfectly well it was. They went through three different shops like this before Shakäste walked up to where he was keeping hold of both their horses.

 

“How much coin do you have on you?” He asked, his voice not as light as it usually was but still calm.

 

Molly fumbled in his pockets, since he still lacked a coin purse. After a few moments he pulled out two silvers pieces and three copper. 

 

“Hmm.” He said, looking down at his hand and frowning. 

 

“Well then, we need some money, or we’ll run out of supplies before we get to Zadash. Not to mention we won’t be able to do anything once we get there.” Shakäste shook his head lightly, shaking his own coin purse and looking irritated at the lack of money within it.

 

The pair of them looked around for a moment, just in case a job - or a large sum of money - magically appeared in front of them. When it didn’t, Shakäste walked up to the closest person, a short fair-skinned human who was humming a song to herself. 

 

“Excuse me, ma’am, do you happen to know of anywhere that offers some quick work?” He asked. The woman paused, glancing at Shakäste and then at Molly, looking curious. 

 

“Are you travellers?” She asked.

 

“Indeed. We were hoping to just be passing through, but we need more money for supplies.” Shakäste said, shaking his head sadly.

 

“Uh, well, a lot of the shops already have people doing odd jobs for them… but the Crownsguard might have some contracts, like deliveries or escorts or things.” The woman said. “They have a building close to the inner city entrance.”

 

After collecting some more detailed directions, Shakäste thanked the woman and headed back to Molly.

 

“There we have it, then.” Shakäste said, climbing up on his horse while Molly did the same with his.

 

“The Crownsguard?” Molly asked with a raised eyebrow, practically forcing the words out through gritted teeth. He had yet to remember one experience with a Crownsguard in which he was not trying to trick, sneak past, or otherwise deceive one, if not outright running away from them. 

 

“Do you have a better idea on how to get some coin quickly? Unless you’ve been here before, and they might recognise you?” 

 

After a moments thought, Molly shook his head, grumbling. His didn’t remember Felderwin, and nothing since arriving here had seemed familiar in the slightest. Still, even if going to the Crownsguard might be a good idea on paper, he still didn’t really like it. Or maybe he was just in a bad mood. Hard to say. 

 

Satisfied with that answer anyway, Shakäste led the way through the streets until they found a big stone building that the woman had described, supposedly the homebase for the Crownsguard responsible for this particular district of the outer city. It was made of the same stone as the wall the back of it was connected to, next to a large arch that led into the more lavish looking inner city. Said building and arch looked very guarded, and Molly already found himself thinking of ways he could sneak past it if he had to. 

 

Instead of doing that, they tied up their horses close by and walked into the building with nothing more than the regular dose of raised eyebrows and curious looks that tended to follow them. Amazing how different things could be when one wasn’t doing something illegal, or attempting to do something illegal. 

 

Shakäste spoke to the first Crownsguard they see, and soon enough they were led down a hallway into a small room. A half-elven man sat inside behind a desk laden with stacks of paper. He wore the same armour as all the other Crownsguard, though his helmet lay pushed up against the side of his desk alongside his sword, and he looked far more exhausted than half-elves tended to appear. 

 

“What’s this?” He looked up as they walked in, narrowing his eyes at the guard who had brought them there.

 

“They’re looking for work.” The guard said bluntly, before closing the door behind him. Molly scoffed under his breath, looking around for somewhere to sit but finding nothing. So he looked back at the half-elf, who had put down whatever he’d been working on in favour of glaring at him and Shakäste.

 

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Shakäste held out a hand, as unfazed as ever, or at least appearing that way. “I’m Shakäste, this is my companion Mollymauk.”

 

The half-elf took it. “Captain Veerdwin. You need work?” 

 

“Yes. We’re travelling to Zadash, but we have less funds than we’d like. A woman told us the Crownsguard often have contracts for quick work.” Shakäste said. 

 

“You were told correctly.” Captain Veerdwin rummaged through some of the piles of papers. “Have you ever done a contract in the past?” 

 

Shakäste nodded, before looking at Molly. 

 

A memory of Molly getting his blood drawn alongside the other members of the Mighty Nein in a very seedy-looking room flashed in his mind. Well, better add blood-magic-contracts to the list of crazy shit his past self got into.

 

“Yup.” He said, hoping his face was the picture of an absolute lack of emotion. “Most definitely.” 

 

Luckily, Captain Veerdwin did not seem inclined to question any further. Either that, or he was just too tired to notice. 

 

“Great. Can you fight?” He asked.

 

This time Shakäste actually paused long enough for it to be noticeable before he answered, while Molly did his best to not notice Shakäste side-eyeing him. “We can defend ourselves, yes.”

 

“Mmhmm. Well, the Eastern District has been having some issues with gnolls attacking the outer farmers. We need to get rid of them.” 

 

“Gnolls?” Shakäste shook his head lightly. “The woman told us you had contracts for things like deliveries and escorts.”

 

“And also gnoll hunting, which is currently our most pressing problem. We’re offering a two hundred gold reward. We’ve already got three people who’ve agreed, but they don’t want to go unless they’ve got some backup.” Captain Veerdwin said.

 

Two hundred gold? Shakäste and Molly exchanged a look, issues monetarily forgotten in favour of the current problem of their lack of money. Granted, split between five people it would only be forty gold each, but surely that would be plenty to get to Zadash. 

 

Shakäste, however, was frowning, and Molly knew it wasn’t because he didn’t think it was enough gold. He still didn’t want to risk getting into another fight because of Molly. 

 

Which was probably a good idea, but also, like, fuck that. 

 

“We’ll do it!” Molly announced, pleased at how easy it was to gather up enough energy to seem excited. “Who are those other people who are doing it too?” 

 

“Some citizens of the outer city. They’ve done contracts for us before, they know what they’re doing. Meet back here tomorrow and we’ll send you all to the gnolls hideout.” Captain Veerdwin pulled out one particular piece of paper, sliding it across the desk. “You’re not citizens so your address won’t be required… Just sign your names.”

 

Molly grabbed the offered pen before before Shakäste could possibly raise up any object, before remembering he couldn’t read - and thus had no idea where he was supposed to sign - and also couldn’t write. 

 

After a moment of silence, Captain Veerdwin pointed to a line on the paper, and Molly scrawled a tiny picture of a flower that he may or may not be able to pass off as a signature. Laughing nervously, he passed off the pen to Shakäste, who took it without a word and signed his own name in neat handwriting. Because of course the blind guy can write. 

 

Veerdwin squinted down at the signatures before looking back up at the two of them. Then he shrugged. “Just come back here tomorrow morning.” 

 

“Ha! You got it!” Molly smacked the door open, walking down the wrong hallway before a guard yelled at him and he turned around. “See ya!”

 

He got all the way back to their horses before he realised Shakäste hadn’t followed him. After a minute of just standing there awkwardly debating with himself on whether to go back inside or not, Shakäste emerged.

 

Molly opened his mouth to ask what had taken him so long, before realising it would feel far too much like things were going back to normal. Or whatever had qualified as normal for them. But Shakäste seemed to sense the question anyway, even if he hardly looked Molly’s way. 

 

“I got more information on the contract you signed us up for without getting all the details on.” He said smoothly, leaving Molly to wonder if it was an insult or just him stating facts. Maybe both. “It seems gnolls have a tendency of bothering Felderwin, but this particular group has only been around for a few weeks. They’re holed up in a cave, which is all the guards were able to discover before being attacked. Two of them died, so they’re hesitant to send more guards out. Regular citizens and travellers are apparently their next best choice.” 

 

“Makes sense.” Molly muttered. 

 

“Indeed. In any case, only three guards went out in the first place, so they think a larger group will have a better chance. I also asked more about those three citizens we’ll be working with. Stephano, Brylin, and Fatima. Apparently they’re all quite experienced in fighting, which is good.”

 

Molly filed the names away for future reference, vaguely listening as Shakäste continued talking about the questions he’d asked after Molly left the office while they searched for the cheapest inn they could find.

 

They did end up finding one, but between all the money they could scrape together, they could only afford one room. 

 

Because the universe was a sick son of a bitch. 

 

Thus, that night Molly found himself sitting on the ground in their room - because Shakäste sat down on the bed first - chewing a piece of jerky, since they couldn’t afford a meal at the bar below. 

 

Shakäste sat cross-legged on the bed, chewing some jerky himself and leaning against the wall.

 

“Ah, it’s nice to be in an actual room for once, isn’t it?” He said, a soft smile on his face.

 

Molly didn’t answer, studying Shakäste face carefully. The old man was still mad, he had to be. But he was so good at keeping his emotions hidden, it was impossible to say for sure. Molly wasn’t quite sure how to proceed from here.

 

He could apologise, he supposed, but that would involve admitting he’d been wrong and his genius coping method of denial wasn’t so genius and he was not ready to do that yet. Or ever. 

 

On the other hand, did he really want to avoid talking about it until they found the Mighty Nein again? Sure, it was only supposed to be a few days trip until Zadash, but that still felt like a ridiculously long amount of time. Just these past two days had felt like torture already. 

 

Ugh, guilt was such an annoying feeling. How did regular people stand apologising for things all the time? 

 

“Something wrong, Mollymauk? You’re frowning a lot there.” Shakäste didn’t even look up, though Stacy was looking right at Molly.

 

That was another thing, Molly distantly realised. Shakäste was calling him Mollymauk now. It was a small thing, but… he’d spent so much time being called Molly. Whenever someone talked to him in his memories or his dreams, it was nearly always Molly. Mollymauk, no matter how great a name it was, felt oddly formal, and somehow Shakäste calling him that every time he talked to him just added to the guilt that was slowly building. 

 

“Eh…” Molly looked away. 

 

Perhaps if he didn’t say anything, eventually Shakäste would just forget what he’d said and everything would be fine again…

 

Yeah, no, that was stupid. Not to mention kind of fucked up on Molly’s part. He grimaced, mentally trying to think of the right words so he wouldn’t screw things up more than he already had. 

 

“Look.” He began, exhaling loudly. “A couple days ago… I may have said some things that were slightly insensitive.” 

 

Shakäste sat there with a blank expression on his face. Molly coughed awkwardly when it became clear he wasn’t going to say anything, waiting for Molly to finish. Or at least give an apology good enough for his standards. 

 

“ _ Perhaps  _ those things I maybe said were… wrong…” Oh if only the ground beneath him would open up so he could die again. 

 

“And… I apologise for not having considered your feelings. You’ve helped me more than you ever needed to, and I was being idiotic.” As he kept talking, his words became slightly less awkward and stilted, eventually settling into a tone that actually sounded normal. 

 

Still, he couldn’t help wincing, because this entire situation was completely uncomfortable. “So I’m sorry for what I said. I...was tired and angry and you didn’t deserve what I said. So there.”

 

For at least thirty seconds after he finished talking, both men just sat there staring at each other. Molly could feel his face getting hotter than it normally was and he stumbled to his feet, powerwalking to the door as quickly as he could, laughing nervously as he did.

 

“Okaythiswasamistakeyouhatemeforeverbye-” 

 

“Molly.” Molly froze, one hand on the doorknob. Painfully slow, he turned until he was facing Shakäste again.

 

“I appreciate your apology. I know you weren’t intending to insult me.”

 

“Ah, thanks?” Molly hadn’t felt so awkward in his life. 

 

“Even if you did insult me.” If Shakäste had a cup of tea, he probably would have taken a sip of it right there.   
  


“Ahhhhh…” Molly just laughed nervously again. “Yeeeaaaahhh, sorry about that.” 

 

Shakäste shrugged. “I’m not angry anymore. I was, but I’m not anymore.” 

 

“Really?” Molly tilted his head, not quite sure if he believed him.

 

“Oh, yes. See, I’ve actually developed ways to deal with my issues in a healthy manner.”

 

Molly could feel his eye twitch. Once again, it was impossible to tell whether Shakäste was subtling telling Molly that  _ his  _ way of dealing with his issues was unhealthy (which was true, but  _ still _ ) or simply stating a fact. 

 

Either way, it was becoming increasingly clear that no matter what, Shakäste would  _ always  _ find a way to move the conversation around to where he wanted it to go. Might as well keep this opening up nonsense going. 

 

“You’re never actually going to let it go, will you.” 

 

“I would if it seemed to be something you could get over by yourself. I still hold to my statement that it is not. Returning from death is not something one can do alone, in both a literal and psychological sense.” Shakäste said. 

 

Molly’s legs felt weak, and he let himself slide down to the floor, leaning against the door. He let out another nervous laugh because oh gods, he was actually considering talking about it in a calm way and that didn’t feel right at all. Talking about ones trauma was not something Mollymauk Tealeaf did. Well, there’s always a first time.

 

“I’m pretty sure I did it at least once already.” He said quickly, before he could change his mind. “Dying, I mean.” 

 

“Oh?” Shakäste straightened up and he shuffled slightly on the bed, listening intently. 

 

“I don’t remember anything before the circus. There’s the Mighty Nein, there’s the circus, and then there’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. And when I woke up back… back near Hupperdook, it felt familiar. Which doesn’t make any sense at all but the only explanation I can think of is that… I died and came back to life before somehow, but never regained those memories. Either that or my memories were just erased, but that’s basically the same thing anyway.”

 

“I see.” Shakäste nodded slowly, which was oddly encouraging. 

 

“Anywayyyyy, so there’s that. But I can’t remember any of that so who cares, you know? Another problem for another day, but the thing that froze me up when we were fighting those bandits-” Molly heistated, hissing in a breath. Oh god, it was so different saying it out loud in a calm manner and not just shouting because he was mad. 

 

“Your most recent death.” Shakäste said, saving him the trouble of saying it himself. Molly nodded, grimacing. 

 

“It was… spooky, in a way. The bandit had a spear and he was rushing at me, and all of a sudden all I could see was this huge guy running at me with a glaive and I was falling and he stabbed me and I- I  _ died _ .” Instinctively, Molly’s hand flew to his chest, still feeling the pressure of the blade tearing through him. He didn’t want to go through exactly what it had felt like, the emotions that ran through him whenever he pictured that moment. He’d already screamed about it to Shakäste’s face, no use repeating it. 

 

“But even that was freaky as hell, but like, that wasn’t it. Cause Beau was there, and she was so close, I know it. Like… I think I took a hit for her, or something, and I died for it. And Caleb and Nott were somewhere, and there were other people I’m pretty sure but-” Molly frowned, and he fumbled in his coat for Caleb’s note that he still kept in one of the deepest and most protected pockets. “The others weren't. Yasha and Jester and Fjord weren’t there and I still don’t remember what happened to them.”

 

He took a deep breath, unfolding the note and looking down at it. “They weren’t there when I died, and they weren’t there when Caleb wrote this note, and I just can’t help thinking, what if they’re not there at all? What if they left the group, or if they died too, and if I never find them again? What if the Mighty Nein isn’t a group anymore?”

 

“Do you remember them dying?” Shakäste asked. Molly narrowed his eyes, trying to predict where the old man was going with this.

 

“No.”

 

“Then as far as you know, they’re still alive. And if they’re still alive, I expect they’ll try their best to find you, just as you’re trying to find them. Thinking too much on the possibilities won’t do you any good. It’s always better to focus on the things you  _ can  _ control.” 

 

Molly’s face tightened, and he looked down at the note, which was now creased and rather delicate from having been handled so much. 

 

As far as he knew, they were all still alive. Separated, perhaps. In danger, perhaps. That latter one seemed to be the norm anyway. But still alive. 

 

“You know, it’s unfair for you to be this good at words.” He finally said, because he could already feel his eyes watering and he was  _ not  _ going to cry today, dammit. He still had  _ some  _ pride. 

 

A glimmer of a smile passed Shakäste’s face. “It’s a gift, baby.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I was gonna have the two being mad at each other (or more accurately, Shakäste trying to fix things while Molly is a stubborn little shit) go on for longer. Then I realised that Molly would die of boredom because there's no one else to talk to besides Shakäste, and also I hate writing friends be mad at each other for very long. So here we go.
> 
> (Oh and more OC's of mine next chapter, yay!)


	15. Make New Friends But Keep Shakäste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Molly and Shakäste go on a simple gnoll-hunting expedition where absolutely nothing will ever go wrong.

It’s annoying to admit when you’re wrong. But when admitting it and apologising for it and talking about it somehow ends up actually allowing you to get at least eight hours of sleep despite sleeping on the wooden floor, then it was a lot easier. 

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alive!” Molly was practically skipping back to the Crownsguard building in the morning. 

 

“So, next time you have a pressing and potentially traumatising memory, you’ll talk about it?” Shakäste mused, not even slightly perturbed by the energy Molly suddenly had. 

 

“Ehhhhh, we’ll cross that bridge if we get to it.” 

 

Molly wasn’t looking in Shakäste direction so he couldn’t see if he was rolling his eyes or not, but the spirit of it was there. 

 

When they got the Crownsguard building and told them who they were, they quickly found themselves ushered to the same office they’d met Captain Veerdwin in the previous day. Inside was the Captain, looking even more exhausted than he had before, along with three women, all clad in armour and robes and leaning against the wall with varying levels of patience.

 

The one closest to the door was a human woman who looked to be somewhere in her thirties. A good four inches shorter than Molly, she had light brown skin and black wavy hair tied up in a bun. Next to her was a gnomish woman that barely reached up to her waist and a scar that cut across her nose and cheek, with strawberry blonde hair cut in a style that reminded Molly of Beau, though messier. She was slightly older than the human by Molly’s guess, and wore the heaviest armour while holding onto a war hammer that was an inch taller than her. The final woman was even taller than Molly and Shakäste but looked the youngest relatively, an elvish woman with a long but youthful face, golden brown hair tied and folded in a tight plait done up with a ribbon, and a dark purple cloak that covered most of her body. 

 

As they entered the office all three women looked at Molly and Shakäste, their eyes immediately narrowing and sizing them up, though Molly at least was doing the same. The human woman nodded a greeting to them both, while the elf and gnome said nothing. 

 

“Alright.” Captain Veerdwin cleared his throat. “Now that you’re all here, here’s the map to the cave the gnolls are hiding out in. Good luck.” 

 

He passed over a piece of parchment to the closest person - which happened to be Shakäste - before quickly shunting all of them out of his office. That man needed a day off, Molly thought to himself before shrugging it off, more eager to complete this job than he probably had any right to be. In any case, he plastered on a smile, holding out a hand to the closest one of his three new companions, the human woman.

 

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance and to fight with you today. I’m Mollymauk Tealeaf.” He said. The woman smiled back, taking his hand and shaking it firmly.

 

“Fatima Lunaless. The captain said you’ve done things like this before. What have you done?” She asked.

 

“Ah-” Molly’s brain froze for a moment, wondering how to explain that the kind of contracts he’d completed apparently involved taking blood samples. 

 

“We’ve fought gnolls before, among other creatures. You needn’t worry about us being inexperienced.” Shakäste interrupted, shaking Fatima’s hand. “Shakäste. I’m looking forward to fighting alongside ladies as beautiful as yourselves.”

 

Fatima snickered, while the gnomish woman raised an eyebrow and the elf looked mildly uncomfortable. Molly decided to try and lessen the awkwardness. 

 

“How about you two? What are your names?” He asked, holding out a hand to each of them. Neither of them took it.

 

“Brylin. That there’s Steph.” The gnomish woman jabbed a finger in the direction of the elf, who nodded tersely at being addressed. “Let’s just get this over with.”

 

Molly nodded pleasantly at them before returning to the most receptive of the group, Fatima. 

 

“They’re a bit touchy, don’t worry about them.” Fatima said. “So what can you two do? All three of us are pretty good at close combat, though Steph and I can also do ranged.”

 

“I’m fairly close combat myself.” Molly shrugged. 

 

“I’m a cleric, so I usually stick to ranged. Any magic in you three?” Shakäste asked. 

 

“Steph has some, though nothing too fancy.” Fatima shrugged. “She tends to miss whenever she tries it anyway.”

 

“A cleric?” Brylin suddenly looked far more interested. “Great!”

 

“I do hope that excitement doesn’t mean you’re going to throw yourself into a perilous situation because you expect me to heal you.” Shakäste said. 

 

“Oh, she does that anyway, cleric or no.” Fatima said brightly. “It’s part of her charm.” 

 

Fatima chatted pleasantly with them about their abilities and how they could work together in a fight as they walked to the eastern district. Brylin chimed in every now and again, mostly to brag about how many gnolls she was going to kill, while Steph hung back, probably attempting to be slightly intimidating and mysterious but mostly appearing like a broody teenager. She  _ did  _ look rather close to actually being a teenager, though Molly was fairly certain elves looked youthful for their relative age anyway. 

 

“Looks like this is it.” Shakäste announced as they reached the end of a road at the edge of the eastern district. The closest building looked like it had been recently abandoned, with smashed windows and a broken down door, cracked and broken belongings strewn about the ground. 

 

“Seems so.” Fatima walked up to the wrecked house. “Hopefully whoever lived here wasn’t home when the gnolls found it.”

 

“We’d have heard if some farmers got killed by the gnolls, wouldn’t we have?” Brylin asked, swinging her hammer around. Fatima just shrugged.

 

“Hang on, why does the blind guy have the map?” Steph spoke up for once, squinting at Shakäste. 

 

“Because the blind guy knows what he’s doing.” Shakäste said simply. “Also, meet the Grand Duchess. Grand Duchess, meet Fatima, Brylin and Steph.” 

 

Stacy chirped from her perch on Shakäste’s shoulder, and Steph’s eyes widened like she hadn’t even noticed the tiny little hummingbird until now. 

 

“Ah, a familiar.” Brylin walked up to Shakäste. “A scrawny one, innit?”

 

Stacy made a rather indignant noise, ruffling up her feathers and retreating closer to Shakäste’s neck. 

 

“I find her small size is actually extremely helpful. Have you met many familiars?” Shakäste asked curiously.

 

Brylin shrugged. “A few. Let’s just get these gnolls.”

 

“Of course.” Shakäste said, looking back down at the map. Or rather, he looked ahead while Stacy looked down at the map. “According to this, the cave should be about a quarter of a mile north east of the end of this road.” 

 

“Great. More walking.” Steph grumbled, as they set off on their way. 

 

Anyone who didn’t already have their weapon drawn had one out by the time they got close to the cave. Steph pointed out the tracks and broken branches as they got near, before vanishing into the trees and coming back to tell them she’d found the entrance. Unguarded, but that was likely because the gnolls probably weren’t expecting an assault on their homebase. She hadn’t gone inside so it was impossible to say how many gnolls there were, but according to the farmers and Crownsguard reports, it was at least seven. 

 

“Alright, everyone ready?” Fatima looked over everyone. Molly glanced over his shoulder where Shakäste was standing. The old man raised one eyebrow in question ‘ _ are you ready? _ ’ to which Molly simply replied with a wink. They’d soon find out, wouldn’t they. 

 

Receiving confirmation all around, Fatima nodded at Steph, who lead the way into the base. It was indeed unguarded and the first chamber they arrived in, dank and lit with a single torch, was devoid of life. Still, rumbles of murmurs and grunts echoed through the walls, and they knew they wouldn’t be alone for long. 

 

“Hey, I’m just curious, is there a particular plan here?” Molly raised his hand.

 

“Yeah. Kill the gnolls.” Brylin grumbled, a sentiment that was enthusiastically echoed by Steph. 

 

“Wonderful.” 

 

“Mmhmm.” Shakäste murmured from next to him, but there was a smirk on his face. “But why don’t we send the Grand Duchess on ahead so that we know what we’re dealing with?” 

 

Without really waiting for agreement for the others, the hummingbird zipped away from Shakäste’s shoulder, vanishing further within the caverns. Molly and the others looked around carefully for any signs of danger, hands tight on their weapons and ears alert. 

 

After a few minutes a buzzing sound told them Stacy had returned, and Shakäste nodded lightly. 

 

“We’re in luck. The gnolls seem to be mostly split up in two groups. One group is sleeping, while another is gathered in one room. Shouldn’t be too difficult to dispatch them.” He said, gently stroking Stacy’s head.

 

“How many?” Brylin asked.

 

“Seven awake, four asleep. They’re fairly relaxed right now and probably drunk, but they have weapons close by.” Shakäste said.

 

“Well, you saw the way there.” Fatima said, loading a bolt in her crossbow. “You’d best lead the way.”

 

Shakäste nodded, beginning to silently lead the group through the caverns. Steph stuck close to the front as well, though seemed rather irritated when Shakäste kept sending Stacy out to check around corners rather than let her do it herself. Molly kept to the middle of the group with Brylin while Fatima brought up the rear with her crossbow. Despite having only met these women this morning, it was obvious they had experience with this kind of thing, which certainly made Molly feel a bit better about his chances.

 

They could probably stand to lighten up a bit, though. He was pretty sure the Mighty Nein would have exploded  _ something  _ by now. 

 

“Shh.” Shakäste held up a hand as they approached a corner, and everyone paused where they stood. The longer the infiltration dragged on without seeing combat, the more antsy Molly was becoming. The torch light was dim and sparse, leaving them tiptoeing through swaths of shadow before reaching light again. 

 

“There’s a door around this corner, with a guard.” Shakäste whispered.

 

“Steph?” Fatima’s voice came from somewhere behind Molly, and he saw Steph nod tersely, pulling up the hood of her cloak and swapping out her shortswords for two daggers that she spun in her hands once before slipping around the corner without a sound. 

 

The rest of them stood there for an indeterminate amount of time, hearing nothing but a light thud, followed by more silence. Molly was sorely tempted to take a peek around the corner to see what was going on, but before he had a chance to shuffle past Shakäste, Steph appeared again, her daggers bloodied but otherwise having no trace of a recent gnoll encounter. 

 

They turned the corner together, and Molly whistled lowly at the sight of a thoroughly dead gnoll, leaned precariously against the wall to stop his body from sliding to the ground and making noise.

 

“Impressive.” He said, looking at Steph out the corner of his eye. The elf made a show of scoffing, but she seemed quite pleased at the compliment. 

 

“If there’s one thing I can do, it’s a sneak attack.” She said simply, tucking her daggers back into her belt and getting out her shortswords. 

 

“Remind me not to get on your bad side.” He winked, and Steph smirked in his direction.

 

“Alright Molly, leave the flirting for later.” Shakäste said dryly. Molly grinned, while Steph’s smirk withered at the realisation that interaction could be construed in less than platonic ways. Molly patted her on the shoulder reassuringly as he passed her to get to the door, though she only seemed more horrified. He hadn’t really been seriously flirting - Steph seemed slightly too young for that - but it was amusing to see the elf’s reaction.

 

“Now, I’m not sure if this door is locked or not.” Shakäste said, taking care to keep his voice low. They could hear voices on the other side of the door, cheers and loud chatter that they recognised as a drinking party even though they couldn’t understand a word of the language. 

 

“Doesn’t matter if you hit it hard enough.” Brylin said, a devious grin settling on her face. “Stand back.”

 

All parties present wisely took a step back, Fatima and Steph preparing their respective crossbows and Shakäste raising his hands and muttering a few words. Molly, lacking a ranged weapon himself, simply shuffled to the side to avoid any potential errant crossbow bolts or spells. 

 

Brylin, meanwhile hefted her warhammer into the air, taking a heaving breath before pulling back and -  **SLAM!**

 

The door splintered into countless pieces, the shattering sound ringing in Molly’s ears. For a split second, silence fell on both sides of the door, and Molly caught a glimpse of six very surprised gnolls, caught in the middle of drinking some likely-stolen ale. Before the dust even had a chance to settle, two crossbow bolts flew wildly into the room, one just managing to hit a gnoll in the shoulder.

 

There was a great, thundering roar from inside the cavern, and Molly had a feeling that those four gnolls who were sleeping might wake up very soon. Brylin let out a roar of her own before racing into the room, warhammer held high, and Molly found himself following, adrenaline racing through his body and exhilaration filling his mind.

 

There was something exciting about battle, he supposed. Sure, his last two actual battles had ended in his own death and then reliving said death, but hey, that was old Molly. This was new on-the-path-to-getting-over-his-trauma Molly. Besides, third times the charm, right? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you can't tell I love my OC's.  
> Steph (or Stephano) is actually the first DnD character I ever made and also the only one I'm actually playing in a campaign, so I have a special soft spot for the girl. She's an Arcane Trickster Rogue and she's a brat. She has an awful name because a) her parents hate her and by parents I mean her in-story parents and also me because I'm a brat and I thought Stephano was hilarious.  
> Fatima and Brylin are a Fighter and Barbarian respectively, and I love them very much as well. Brylin's entire character is based around me wanting a gnome with a weapon bigger than she was because I thought that was the funniest shit. Fatima came about because I went on a kick of creating DnD characters (on DnD Beyond, I hope Sam is proud of me) and I hadn't made a Fighter yet. 
> 
> These three will be stickin around for a little bit, so I hope you enjoy them. 
> 
> Also, in case you're curious, this is the start of what I consider the third and final 'arc' of this series. Arc 1 was 'Molly Got Fucked Up', Arc 2 was 'Molly Fucks Up' and Arc 3 is 'Molly Fucks Shit Up' so I hope you enjoy.
> 
> I've also decided to up the rating from General Audiences to Teens, mostly because I realised the words 'fuck' and 'shit' happen with far more frequency than I'd pictured, and that isn't gonna stop anytime soon (in retrospect maybe the fact that the first word of the whole story is 'fuck' should have been a good indicator, but eh). But also because some later chapters may or may not get a bit bloody and I don't want to forget.


	16. Killing Gnolls and Saving Towns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which gnolls are slain and towns are saved.

By the time Molly actually entered the room, which was just barely large enough for six gnolls and five attackers, Brylin was already hammering the closest gnoll with her hammer. She’d managed to hit him once hard in the jaw before he had a chance to react, and was now pummelling him without remorse. 

 

Molly decided to just let her enjoy herself, ducking to the side of the room so as not to get in the way of his allies using crossbows. He had both his scimitars out and was ready to go, before a thought hit him. Back before they got to Felderwin, when he’d accidentally cut himself with his scimitar, there’d been that rush of energy. It had seemed useless at the time, but in combat?

 

A very familiar sense of ‘oh this will be  _ good _ ’ settled into his bones, and he brought up both his scimitars high, a wicked grin blooming on his face. In the same heartbeat he brought them down, slicing cuts into the sides of his arms that stung like wildfire for a moment before fading, the rush of energy racing through his body, ice already beginning to coat the blades. He was pretty sure he heard Steph say ‘what the actual fuck’ somewhere behind him but he didn’t care, racing towards the closest gnoll.

 

It was taller than him, they all were, and this one had hastily picked up a club and was preparing to swing. But his movements were surprisingly slow and clumsy (thanks alcohol), and dodging was an easy matter. Molly dashed forwards and sliced up the gnoll’s chest, ripping open two brilliantly smooth wounds like he was slicing through paper rather than flesh, darting back to avoid any blood splashing on his coat - he didn’t exactly have any money to get it cleaned. The ice on the blades was unaffected, blood seeming to slip off or evaporating into the air instantaneously.

 

The scimitars almost seemed to vibrate with energy, matching the pure exhilaration that Molly felt. Was this what all magic users felt like when they released a spell? Because he definitely saw the appeal now. 

 

The gnoll he’d hurt staggered back, howling in pain that swiftly morphed into anger, raising up his club to strike. Molly automatically ducked to the left and brushed up against the wall, nearly stumbling but managing to catch himself. The gnoll began to swing his club to catch him on the backswing, before suddenly roaring out in pain, a crossbow bolt buried into his cheek just beneath his eye.

 

“Stab it!” Steph called out, and Molly glanced over his shoulder to see her close to the rooms entrance just in front of Shakäste, tucking her crossbow onto her belt and drawing her shortswords. 

 

“What wonderful advice, I was considering just letting him hit me!” Molly shouted back, rushing forward and stabbing the gnoll rather unceremoniously in the throat with both scimitars. He made a horrific gurgling sound and Molly grimaced, quickly retracting the blades and retreating away from the gnoll. Well, so much for keeping his sleeves clean. 

 

He took the brief respite to glance around him. Brylin had thoroughly smashed the brains out of the first gnoll and had knocked the legs out from underneath another one, though it had gotten a solid slash on her too, ripping some of the plate armour off of her arm, not that it slowed her down. Steph had run towards Fatima, who was already engaged with another gnoll, while the final two gnolls had retrieved crossbows and were aiming them at whoever seemed the best target.

 

Molly glanced in the direction of Shakäste just in time to see the man point a finger in the direction of the two crossbow wielding gnolls. A powerful, ear-splitting noise filled the cavern in an instant, and Molly clasped his hands over his ears, wincing. It wasn’t enough to cause him any pain, but the two gnolls the spell had actually been aimed at were nowhere near as lucky.

 

The first collapsed to his knees almost immediately, howling in pain and writhing on the floor, blood beginning to stream from his ears and nose as he thrashed. The other managed to stay upright but the crossbow slipped from his grasp, and he fumbled to find it on the ground again. 

 

Not for the first time, Molly was immensely grateful that Shakäste was on his side, flashing the old man a thumbs up before racing back into the fight. 

 

He crossed the short distance to the end of the cavern, taking a running leap and plunging his scimitars into the stomach of the gnoll who’d managed to vaguely resist Shakäste’s spell, twisting the blades before he pulled them out. Unfortunately, this particular gnoll was very much attached to his life, slashing his arms forward as Molly tugged the blades out and catching him on the leg with claws.

 

He stumbled to the floor, a few dozen choice curses flying through his mind and a dozen more out of his mouth before he hit the ground hard, sending a throbbing pain through his shoulder to accompany the probable wounds in his leg. 

 

He managed to scramble backwards just as the gnoll slashed again at the space where he had been, albeit only with one hand since his other was busy trying to keep his intestines from spilling out. Molly managed to climb on his feet, wincing at the pain in his legs but commanding his body to ignore it for now. Next to him, a weirdly luminescent and translucent statue of some woman slammed into the gnoll that had been more injured by Shakäste’s spell. The gnoll collapsed to the ground, dropping the dagger he’d been trying to aim at Molly. 

 

At the same time Molly lunged forward, stabbing the first gnoll one final time, finally bringing it down. When he straightened up he looked over his shoulder, seeing Shakäste give him a thumbs up accompanied by a wry smile. Fatima and Steph had successfully taken down their gnoll, while Brylin gave one final self-indulgent stomp on the lifeless body of the one she’d been fighting before going to pick up the broken pieces of her armour. 

 

“Well, that went well.” Fatima said, stretching her arms loosely. 

 

“We’re not done yet.” Shakäste warned, shifting his hand. The translucent statue floated in the air, settling gently behind him like a strange, stone-faced bodyguard. 

 

“That noise trick was impressive.” Brylin said, giving Shakäste a fond punch to the ribs. If it hurt, the man said nothing, but his face pinched ever so slightly in a way that made Molly have to stifle a snicker. “What else can you do?”

 

“Storms, snow, a great many things.” Shakäste forced a smile, shrugging lightly. “Most of them work better outdoors, however.”

 

“Really? I can only do a couple fire things. Like magic missile, you know?” Steph seemed far more relaxed now that most of the gnolls were dead and their mission was well on the way to success, talking loudly as she knelt over the dead bodies and rummaged through their pockets.

 

“That’s wonderful, but I think the best thing you do with your magic is healing, Shakäste.” Molly said pointedly. 

 

“Ah, you’ve barely got a scratch.” Shakäste walked up to him, looking over him carefully. He did pause when he saw Molly’s leg, which was definitely bleeding. “Anyone else hurt?”

 

“Nothing major.” 

 

“Nope.”

 

“I’m good.” 

 

Molly sighed, having a feeling of what was coming next. He’d managed to remember more than one bout of Jester complaining about healing her friends all the time - though just as many of her freaking out whenever they got hurt, so he was fairly sure a lot of her complaints was just posturing and being irritated she didn’t get to do cool shit more often. 

 

“It’s fine, I’m sure I’ll be able to survive.” He held a hand up to his forehead, just to be sure Shakäste knew what kind of sacrifice he was making in the name of his spells. “If I die, use the slot you could have healed me with to do some lightning shit, okay?” 

 

Shakäste rolled his eyes as well as a blind man could, muttering a few words and resting a hand on Molly’s shoulder. Immediately he felt some of the pain being siphoned away, and the odd but always welcome sensation of wounds closing up quicker than they should be. 

 

“Nice to see you’re back to normal, Molly.” He said, his words quick but his tone fond. 

 

“If that’s done, we should get going to those other gnolls. The sooner we finish this, the sooner we get paid!” Steph said, already waiting at the door. 

 

“Truer words have never been spoken.” Molly said brightly, patting Shakäste’s shoulder as he strode past. “Let’s go get paid!”

 

Steph and Brylin let out an enthusiastic cheer, all of them momentarily forgetting about stealth. It probably didn’t matter anyway thanks to Shakäste’s earlier spell, so none of them were particularly concerned. Shakäste ended up leading the way back through the tunnels again to get to where the gnolls had been sleeping.

 

After taking on seven gnolls, the last four were a piece of cake. One enthusiastic set of magic missiles from Steph coupled with a few crossbow bolts from Fatima took down one, Brylin’s warhammer pummelled another, a fiery spell from Shakäste took care of a third and Molly handled the fourth in quick succession. Brylin declared the job done with one final stomp in the guts for a still twitching gnoll, and all five of them took a moment to congratulate each other before promptly starting to loot the place without another word. 

 

“You know, we could probably get to Zadash with these supplies alone.” Shakäste pointed out as he stuffed some rations into a bag. “We don’t even need to see Captain Veerdwin again.” 

 

Molly looked up from the shiny ornate mirror he’d been admiring himself in. “But money, though.” 

 

“Well, obviously.” Shakäste scoffed. 

 

“I think we’ve about cleared the place out.” Brylin announced, flexing her muscles and looking very pleased with herself. Steph and Fatima walked behind her, the former laden with all manner of trinkets and supplies she’d scavenged from who knows where. 

 

“I’d say you’re about right.” Shakäste stood up, hoisting his stolen bag of goods onto his back. “Ready to leave, Molly?”

 

Molly nodded, tucking the mirror into a pocket on his coat alongside a few other interesting little knick-knacks he’d picked up in the cave. He certainly had a growing collection, what with all the things the Schuster children had bought him (even the thought of throwing any of it away was just unappealing) and the things he’d bought himself. Perhaps he needed to sew more pockets into his coat. 

 

The walk back to the Crownsguard’s building was cheerful, with a successful battle going a long way to easing any previous hesitation. Brylin now seemed to consider both Molly and Shakäste good friends, and while Steph still held some distance between them, she had a content smile the whole way back. Ah, nothing like a good dose of danger and gnoll-killing to get some friendships started. 

 

“Doesn’t this remind you of the first time we met?” Molly asked, leaning in towards Shakäste and grinning. “Killing gnolls and saving towns?”

 

“Oh, yes, of course. I don’t know how i managed to consider my life worthwhile until I met you.” Shakäste deadpanned.

 

“A common sentiment, but you’re welcome.” 

 

“You two met hunting down gnolls?” Fatima asked, one eyebrow raised. “That sounds like an interesting story.”

 

“Every story involving me is automatically interesting.” Molly said, winking. “But yes, that particular story is very interesting. Shakäste remembers it far better than me, though.”

 

“I remember everything better than you.” Shakäste deadpanned. Both of them shared a glance, before bursting out into laughter. Or amused chuckling in Shakäste's case.

 

Gods, Molly was so glad he’d sorted out his issues. Joking about his lack of memory and death around people who had no idea about it was  _ far  _ more entertaining than pretending it didn’t happen. Fatima’s confused looked made him laugh even harder, only managing to calm down long enough to collect their reward from Captain Veerdwin.

 

“This calls for a celebration!” Brylin announced as they left Veerdwin’s office, holding a small pouch containing her share of the reward in the air. “To the bar!” 

 

“I’ll drink to that!” Molly called out, to the cheers of Steph and Fatima. Shakäste gave a rather lackluster cheer of his own, but Molly could tell he was happy anyway. 

 

“Oh, you will!”

 

Brylin began directing them to the closest decent inn she knew of. Molly held onto his pouch of money tight, grinning wider than he could ever remember grinning before. It was too late to head onto the road to cover any decent amount of ground anyway, and he certainly wasn’t going to say no to celebrating victory with his new friends. 

 

So they’d be able to spend the night at the inn, and then leave Felderwin tomorrow. 

 

And then? Then their next stop would be Zadash and the Mighty Nein. They were so close he could almost touch them, and he couldn’t wait. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Mission success!


	17. Empty Beds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Molly gets a hell of a hangover.

“And so  _ then  _ I snuck out in the middle of the night and never looked back!” Steph waved one of her hands wildly, nearly slapping a man who was passing by their table in the face as she did. The man scowled and Fatima and Shakäste both apologised since Steph had already moved on in her story. 

 

They were gathered in an inn, having claimed one of the centre tables in the room for the express purpose of making as much noise as they pleased and having a straight shot to the bar. They’d spent half an hour simply drinking and congratulating each other on their gnoll victory and now, half-drunk, they’d moved on to far more interesting topics of conversation. 

 

“So, hang on, what did your parents do again?” Molly leaned forward with a grin on his face, one hand on his latest drink. There was a small assortment of half-empty glasses gathered around him, since this particular bar had a large variety of different drinks and he wanted to try  _ all of them _ . 

 

“Absolutely nothing. Steph’s just a  _ brat _ .” Brylin sniggered, taking a large gulp of ale. 

 

“They were the worst!” Steph said, narrowing her eyes. “They named me Stephano for starters. Stupid ancestors with stupid names.” She stuck out her tongue in disgust.

 

“Why don’t you just change your name?” Molly took a sip of his drink, named something he couldn’t remember but something that sent shivers down his spine. He loved it. “Can’t be that hard.”

 

“Oh, I will, as soon as I hit one hundred. Then I’ll technically be an adult, and elves are supposed to get new names then anyway.” Steph shrugged, before her face darkened. “I’ve been looking forward to that day for ninety six years.”

 

“What will you change it to?” Molly asked, finishing his drink and making a signal to the barkeep to bring out another one. 

 

Both Fatima and Brylin pointedly took a large swig of their drinks, and Molly could have sworn he saw a fire begin to blaze in Steph’s eyes. 

 

“ _ Well- _ ” She began, digging within her cloak and pulling out a parchment. 

 

“Oh Bahamut help us.” Brylin groaned.

 

Steph cleared her throat, and distantly Molly wondered what he’d gotten himself into. Shakäste, who’d been having a rather civil discussion alongside Fatima, looked highly amused. “So I don’t have a favourite yet, but there’s a bunch I’ve been thinking of. Let’s see, I’ve got Nerisys, Issoria, Virya, Salore, Sachi- just tell me if you like any of them- Meri, Adelais-”

 

“I think they all sound wonderful.” Molly interrupted. “Beautiful names for a beautiful elf.”

 

Steph’s eyes widened slightly and she quickly looked away, blood rushing to her cheeks. 

 

“How old are you, exactly?” Fatima asked, one eyebrow raised. The barkeep came over with a new glass for Molly, which he exchanged for a few copper pieces.

 

“Eighty seven.” Molly said, taking a sip without missing a beat. The new drink burned his throat and he gagged, which ruined the effect, but Fatima, Brylin and Steph’s faces were still priceless. 

 

Shakäste shook his head, and Molly just grinned.

 

“Yeah, I’m calling bullshit on that.” Fatima rolled her eyes. “Tieflings have human lifespans.”

 

“How do you know I wasn’t born to an elven family?” Molly said, winking and wiggling his eyebrows. Fatima opened her mouth before closing it again, horror dawning on her face. Shakäste nearly spat out his drink and Molly revelled in it, because absolutely nobody - least of all himself or Shakäste would ever be able to disprove it. 

 

“Oh gods, an elven tiefling.” 

 

“Pft, I doubt it.” Steph said, scoffing into her drink and leaning back in her chair. “What’s your last name again?”

 

“Tealeaf.” Molly said, shrugging his shoulders lightly. Steph nodded like she’d been expecting exactly that.

 

“That’s possibly the least elven name I’ve ever heard of.” She announced proudly. 

 

“I dunno, I reckon ‘Stephano’ comes pretty close.” 

 

“I will murder you in your sleep Brylin.” 

 

“Whatever you say Miss Stephen.” Brylin, a shit-eating grin on her face, easily ducked the nearly-empty mug that flew at her head.

 

“Hold on, your last name is  _ Stephen?  _ Stephano Stephen?” Molly couldn’t help grinning, just because it sounded so ridiculous. Steph groaned, lowering her face onto the table.

 

“Yes.” Her voice was slightly muffled, and full of self-pity. “An awful combination of an unlucky family name on dad’s side of the family and stupid naming traditions on mum’s. And parents who hate me too much to bend the rules and allow me a decent name.”

 

“That-that’s very unfortunate.” Molly gulped down his drink in one go to stop himself from bursting out into laughter, a very difficult feat. Unfortunately, he forgot how spicy this particular drink was, and soon half of it was back in the glass.

 

“That is disgusting.” Shakäste said dryly. “Do try not to be sick, we’ve had enough delays as it is.”

 

“Ah, you know you love spending time with me.” Molly said, throwing an arm around Shakäste’s shoulder and hugging him tight. 

 

“Delays? Where are you headed?” Fatima asked. She’d drunk the least of them by far, though she claimed it was because she was a lightweight. Molly wasn’t sure if he’d call downing three drinks and still being upright a lightweight, but hey, whatever. 

 

“Zadash. I’m meeting up with some old friends of mine, and Shakäste’s been making sure we don’t die along the way.” Molly said, grinning. “He’s very good at it.”

 

“One would hope so.” Shakäste deadpanned.

 

“Ooh, I’ve been to Zadash. Used to pickpocket there a lot, but then the Crownsguard got intense.” Steph mused, before seeming to catch herself, her cheeks red both from the alcohol and the embarrassment. “I mean, what? I’ve never done that. I am a completely law-abiding citizen.”

 

“I’m sure.” Shakäste said cryptically. Steph laughed nervously, looking around for the barkeep to call over another drink. 

 

“Don’t worry. You two don’t exactly look like the sort to be in perfect standing with the law. Am I right?” Fatima said.

 

Shakäste made no reaction to the statement, while Molly made a so-so gesture with his hand. Of course he knew the answer was a big fat ‘Yes, the list of laws I’ve definitely and probably broken would probably fill this entire bar’ but they didn’t need to know that. 

 

“So, you’re meeting up with friends? Can they fight like you can?” Brylin asked, squinting. 

 

A few memories of fighting crocodiles, bandits, gnolls and other strange creatures filled Molly’s mind. One particularly distinct image of Nott stabbing down at a baby animal of some kind, both her and the baby screaming bloody murder the whole way, stood out.

 

“Yup.” 

 

He couldn’t get another drink fast enough. 

 

“So why’re you visiting them?” Steph asked.

 

“We got separated a while back, and Zadash is where we were supposed to meet up.” Molly shrugged, collecting his newest drink and gulping it down. Alcohol wasn’t something he had tasted since Hupperdook and he had missed it. “Usually we’re a group.”

 

“Oh?” 

 

“He’s part of the group.” Shakäste said, clearing his throat. “I’m more of an acquaintance.” 

 

“Nonsense! At the very least, you’re an honorary member.” Molly scoffed at the very thought that Shakäste _wasn’t_ somehow a part of the Mighty Nein. If Kiri the small bird child could be a part of the group, Shakäste certainly was too. He wouldn’t be surprised if Caleb and the others had picked up at least two more random strangers while he’d been gone. 

 

None could replace him, of course, but still. 

 

Shakäste rolled his eyes but didn’t object to his honorary membership, probably simply because it was a bit of an odd conversation to have in front of three relative strangers. Though Molly felt they were more like friends at this point, considering they’d fought gnolls together. 

 

“What about you two? Steph has told us about her family life or lack thereof in great detail.” Shakäste said warmly, nodding his head at Fatima and Brylin. “How about you? I would certainly like to know how the three of you ended up taking contracts with the Crownsguard together.” 

 

“Oh, that’s easy.” Brylin said, puffing her chest out. “Fatima and I met in the army. Had a great time of it, helped each out of some jams, and the rest is history.” Her eyes seemed to glaze over, lost in some distant, probably violent but nonetheless precious memory. 

 

Both of us grew up in rather poor families, so the army was a good way to earn some money.” Fatima took over, smiling softly. “Of course, eventually Brylin wanted more than just beating up whatever poor souls the army sent us to fight. She decided monsters posed more of a challenge.”

 

“And you followed her?” Molly asked curiously. Fatima and Brylin glanced at each other, untold years of history filling the air between them. “Oooooh. So our flirting?”

 

“If you’d gone any further than vaguely subtle remarks, Brylin would have beat you into the ground.” Fatima rolled her eyes, her face the picture of fondness. “Love can be a silly thing, sometimes. But it all worked out in the end.”

 

“They have sex like  _ every  _ night, it’s awful.” Steph stage-whispered, giving Molly and Shakäste a withering look. 

 

“You’ve got your own room, quit complaining.” Fatima said, her smile never faltering. Brylin on the other hand, looked ridiculously flustered. It was kind of adorable, and then Molly remembered how only a few hours earlier she’d been bashing a gnoll’s brains in with a hammer she was now using as an armrest. Then it got even more adorable. 

 

“It’s the actual  _ worst.” _

 

“Consider yourself lucky, Steph. If one of us was a guy we might have kids, and then  _ you’d  _ be the babysitter.” Fatima said, and Molly nearly threw up his drink into his glass again, struggling to hold in his laughter. Shakäste hid his face in his drink as well, and Molly was pretty sure Brylin wouldn’t be able to get any redder. 

 

Perhaps Fatima  _ was  _ drunk. She certainly hadn’t seemed the type to be saying stuff like this before.

 

“I hate you two.” Steph grumbled, burying her face in her hands.

 

“No you don’t.” 

 

Molly snickered, finishing off his latest drink, a sweet concoction that had actually been very nice (either that or he was getting drunk enough that taste didn’t matter anymore). His vision blurred at the edges, and there was a gentle alcohol-induced fuzziness at the edges of his thoughts. “Well, that was a wonderful love story, but you still haven’t explained how leaving the army ended up with you here, taking contracts for the Crownsguard.”

 

“Ah.” Fatima said, blinking a few times ostensibly just so she could process her potential answer. Steph suddenly looked very uncomfortable, though the previous conversation went a long way to explaining why, and Brylin seemed intent on chugging her latest drink as quickly as possible. 

 

“You see, one of Brylin’s brothers actually works in Felderwin, for the Lawmaster. He told us the Lawmaster and Crownsguard were on the lookout for people to fight some monsters, so we came along.” Fatima said, shrugging and looking around for the barkeep. “Of course, there aren’t always contracts, so I work in a bakery in the southern district too.” 

 

“Well, that’s vaguely underwhelming.” Molly said.

 

Shakäste patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. “Not every story is as dramatic as your life, Molly.”

 

“It should be. The world would be a lot more interesting if everything was as dramatic as my life.” Molly announced, waving a hand in the air flippantly. Fatima smirked, while Brylin and Steph still seemed distracted.

 

“The world would not survive more than one Mollymauk Tealeaf.” Shakäste shook his head, smiling.

 

“The world needs to step the fuck up.”

 

Another round of drinks came along to a cheer from them all, and lifestories were abandoned in favour of getting drunk as  _ shit _ . As night fell the bar became full and a band began to play in the corner. It only took one patron to start singing to get all of them embroiled in a drinking song, which somehow ended up in a bar fight that Molly would later swear he had absolutely nothing to do with. He couldn’t  _ quite  _ remember if that was actually true or not, so he decided to pretend it was. 

 

Either way, the five of them decided to sneak off to their rooms as soon as someone announced a Crownsguard was arriving to break up the fight between a poor half-elf and Brylin, and all patrons scrambled to not get arrested. 

 

Molly and Shakäste were able to afford a room with two beds this time, a simple luxury Molly was immensely grateful for, since last night he’d made do on the ground, despite Shakäste offering to share. Fatima, Brylin and Steph had wished them a goodnight before splitting off - the former mostly, although her eyes looked strained from exhaustion and something else Molly couldn’t quite describe - and Molly could barely get his coat off before collapsing on the closest bed.

 

If he hadn’t been drunk, exhausted and all-around a mess, he would have enjoyed the sensation of a mattress and blankets and a pillow that was actually his size - bless the Schuster’s, but their beds were not designed for human-sized creatures. But he was all of those things, so he fell asleep within seconds. 

 

His dreams were just as ominous and terrible as they’d been for a while, but it no longer disturbed him as much as it once had. The alcohol probably helped, but he was pretty sure he hadn’t slept this well since Hupperdook. 

 

When he woke up, however, it didn’t feel so nice. 

 

The smell of alcohol still permeated the air like a fog, a heavy throbbing in his head that he doubted would go away anytime soon. His limbs stiff, Molly groaned as he rolled over in his bed, accidentally knocking something that had probably fallen out of his pockets sometime in the night onto the floor.

 

There was a clatter, too sharp and loud for Molly’s ears and he hissed, opening his eyes and blinking at the morning sun that streamed through the window, along with a stiff breeze. Gods, had Shakäste decided he missed the cold that came with sleeping outside?  As his eyes adjusted he cast his gaze over to the other side of the room and saw Shakäste’s bed empty and blankets rumpled.

 

Scowling at his friends apparent inability to close a window or wake him up before heading down to breakfast, Molly sat up on his bed and stretched, his tail flicking agitatedly. He stood up and looked down to the floor to where he’d unceremoniously dumped his coat.

 

Instead there was nothing but a worn wooden floor, his two scimitars and the small pouch that had Molly’s share of their reward from Captain Veerdwin, a few coins having fallen out from when Molly had pushed it off the bed. 

 

Molly blinked at this scene, an unsettling feeling suddenly springing into his gut, all thoughts of his hangover forgotten. He looked around, but there was no sign of his coat. Or Shakäste.

 

Shakäste not being there was strange, but potentially explainable. But Shakäste would never take his coat, because he had no reason to take his coat. No one had any reason to take his coat, except for him.

 

The unsettling feeling shifted into a full blown sense of ‘this isn’t right’. 

 

Wordlessly, Molly scooped up his scimitars, pouch and money and left his room, stalking down the hall to Steph’s room. It was empty. Then he checked Fatima and Brylin’s room. Empty.

 

Curses and questions raging in the back of Molly’s mind, his face tightened as he walked down the stairs to the bar. Scanning the tables, he didn’t see any of his companions anywhere. Most importantly, there was no Shakäste. 

 

He walked up to the barkeeper. “Excuse me, you have seen my friend? Old, irritatingly smart, big white hair?”

 

“Nope, not this morning.” The barkeeper said, shrugging lightly but looking at him with a suspicious glance.

 

“Ah. Alright then, thank you.” Molly said pleasantly, spinning on his heel and going back upstairs.

 

His thinly veiled smile fell away as soon as the door shut behind him and his eyes fell on the open window. 

 

Open window. Missing coat. Missing Shakäste. Missing Fatima, Brylin and Steph. Words tugged in his mind, a terrifyingly similar memory of waking up on the road only to discover some who’d been there when he went to sleep were there no longer.

 

_ “Jester, I need some pocket bacon for breakfast. Jester?” _

 

_ “Fjord didn’t come back from watch last night.” _

 

_ “Where’s Yasha? She’s gone too.” _

 

He’d been robbed. Not only that, his friend had been  _ kidnapped _ . Because Shakäste wouldn’t leave him. 

 

Not again. Things had actually been going  _ well  _ for once.

 

His hands curled up into fists, and he stalked over to the open window, looking down. Footprints, clears as day in the mud by the side of the inn. Footprints that had no reasonable business being there, unless they belonged to people sneaking out and doing illegal things like kidnapping people. 

 

He’d lost Jester, Fjord and Yasha. He’d lost Caleb, Nott and Beau. He’d lost a lifetime worth of memories. He was so close to getting at least those first six things back. He wasn’t losing Shakäste too.

 

They should have taken the scimitars too, Molly thought distantly. Because they were going to regret it when he cut them to pieces. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. 
> 
> Well. That happened.
> 
> And yes, Steph's full name is Stephano Stephen, and I'm workshopping a middle name of Stephie because I'm already using her in a campaign with that name so I may as well just go full ridiculousness. She's not even got the most ridiculous name in our party.
> 
> Fun fact, this chapter was the last one I wrote in the original google docs I'm using for this story. It started getting slow so I made up a new one for the remaining chapters. They are named, respectively 'Death to Canon' and 'Death to Canon 2: Electric Boogaloo'


	18. *Kill Bill Sirens*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Molly is on a mission and stupid things like 'rules' and 'politeness' aren't going to stop him.

No one in the inn had seen Shakäste leave. Nor had they seen Steph, Brylin and Fatima leave. Both Molly and Shakäste’s horses were undisturbed at the stable they had left them at, along with everything they had left on the horses. It wasn’t much, Molly had kept most of his things in his coat and Shakäste in a bag that was usually hidden underneath his cloak, but Molly’s tapestry was there draped over his horse. 

 

The tapestry was a welcome sight, but the fact that Amiro was still there confirmed Molly’s suspicions, not that he’d had any doubt. Shakäste hadn’t just left him. Wherever he’d gone, it wasn’t planned by him and it probably wasn’t consensual. 

 

Finding nothing but increasingly suspicious glances and non committal answers in the inn, Molly thundered into Captain Veerdwin’s office to ask where Steph, Brylin and Fatima lived. Because their vanishing as well was too much of a coincidence.

 

Apparently that kind of stuff was ‘classified information’ that ‘he couldn’t give out to random strangers’ even if they were missing. Veerdwin had promised to get some Crownsguard to investigate but Molly wasn’t a fool. Neither he nor Shakäste were citizens of this town and they had no reason to care if one of them went missing. Nor did he seem particularly worried about Steph, Brylin or Fatima, which was suspicious all on it’s own.

 

So Molly made the logical leap to breaking into his office in the middle of the night. Captain Veerdwin had mentioned that he wouldn’t need to take down their addresses while signing on him and Shakäste for the gnoll hunting contract since they weren’t residences, so it stood to reason that the three potential kidnapper’s addresses  _ were  _ on file somewhere.

 

Of course, Captain Veerdwin had apparently never heard of sleep, so by the time he left and Molly was actually able to sneak into his office, it was already in the very early hours of the morning. Then Molly finally remembered he couldn’t fucking  _ read _ , and his loud cursing at that fact brought about the attention of a nearby guard. Pressed to escape before he could get arrested or worse, Molly finally had the opportunity to cast Darkness as a distraction.

 

Only to find out he couldn’t do it, so thanks a lot Kaimos for that shitty info. Instead he cursed so hard he might have activated  _ something  _ else instead, since the guard who had been preparing to arrest him keeled over with his hands over his ears and blood beginning to stream out of his nose. 

 

Oops. The guard didn’t  _ die _ , though, so Molly decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and get out of there.

 

Molly managed to smack his face against the wall in his haste to climb out the window and escape, and overall had a very shitty time and accomplished very little of value. 

 

Still, painfully aware that Captain Veerdwin or one of the other guards would put together the dots of the angry purple tiefling looking for a missing friend and a sudden break in later that night, Molly fell back on his backup plan. Which was stomping about to a library, because libraries knew shit, right? They had files and things?

 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” He snapped, making the poor man he’d asked step back, eyes wide.

 

“We don’t keep records of citizen’s addresses.” The poor librarian stuttered. “Even if we did, I can’t just tell you, it would be an invasion of privacy.” 

 

Felderwin was quickly becoming the worst town Molly had ever stepped foot in. And he was counting whatever town he’d died in or whatever. At least that place had just killed him and then been done with it. Felderwin had to be  _ difficult _ . 

 

“But they’re  _ missing _ , and I’m trying to find them. Don’t you want to help?” Molly was keeping his composure, but it was a near thing. He had nowhere near the amount of patience Shakäste did, and none of the other members of the Mighty Nein to distract someone, or back him up, or blow something up, or just stand there and be… there. 

 

He was alone, truly alone now, and he  _ hated it.  _

 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know those people, and we don’t keep addresses. You should probably talk to the Crownsguard about it.” The librarian took another step away, clearly wanting to leave this conversation as quickly as possible. 

 

Molly felt a great urge to punch the man for how much use he’d been (none at all), but that was a good way to get himself arrested. And if he got arrested, there was no one around to get him out. So instead he took a deep breath, channelled as much of Shakäste’s calming aura as he could, and plastered on a very small, tight smile. 

 

“What a brilliant idea.” He said, spinning on his heel and leaving the library, ‘accidentally’ tipping over a chair with his tail as he did. 

 

He walked back out onto the streets, no closer to finding them than he had been before. Godsdamnit, think! There had to be a way to find them. He racked his brains for everything he’d learned about the missing women, everything they’d said about their lives. Of course, there was a chance everything they’d said had been a bald-faced lie, but they’d also been drunk for half the time Molly had known them. Usually it was a bit harder to lie while drunk. 

 

Fatima and Brylin had worked in the army… Stephano had run away from home… they only came to Felderwin for the contracts but…

 

Fatima works for a bakery. In the southern district. Molly’s eyes lit up at the memory of this information. Bakery. Surely there can’t be that many bakeries in the southern district, right? He raced back into the library to find out. Thankfully, this was information that librarian was actually able to find.

 

“Ah, there’s three different bakeries in the southern district. Tough Cookies Bakery, Born and Bread Bakery, and The Sweet Spot.” The librarian cringed a little as he read out the names, but Molly didn’t care.

 

“Can I get their addresses?” He asked impatiently. The man wrote down the three addresses on a piece of paper without question, probably eager to get Molly away for good as quickly as possible. Molly pored over the paper like it was the most precious gem on the planet, actually thanking the librarian as he left this time. And picking up the chair he’d tipped over.

 

He still had no idea what was actually written on the piece of paper (perhaps he should ask Caleb or someone to teach how to read, at least the basics), but there were numbers and words and addresses had those things so he could ask people for directions, so he didn’t really care.

 

Of course the universe liked to make things interesting, so all three of these bakeries were as far away from each other as they could probably get without crossing over into another district, and even getting to the first one - Born and Bread - from the eastern district was a trek. 

 

Still, Molly didn’t slow down for even a second, fueled by rage, spite, and a happy fantasy about how badly he was going to fuck up whoever took Shakäste. Probably Stephano, Brylin and Fatima, though he wasn’t going to quite discredit the possibility that  _ they  _ had been kidnapped too. But he had yet to see any evidence to the contrary, so for now they were the faces he imagined beating into the goddamned ground while Shakäste cheered him on. 

 

Of course, there was still the question as to why he was still here, free and not-kidnapped. With his money and his scimitars, no less. Presumably the kidnapper(s) simply expected him to either be too afraid to come after them, or not care enough about Shakäste to come after them. Either way, they were dead fucking wrong. Firstly, they’d stolen his  _ coat _ . The amazing, beautifully coloured, perfect coat that also contained most of his most precious possessions; the trinkets from the Schuster’s, the jewelled incense bag,  _ the note from Caleb.  _ Secondly, he’d lost enough people in his lives, he was going to die again before he lost someone else.

 

Hmm. Now that he thought about it, wasn’t that the exact line of thinking that led to his most recent death anyway? Now that he’d gotten over most of the traumatising things about it, he’d been able to think about it far more closely. He was almost certain that the only reason he’d gotten close to Lorenzo (fucking asshole, Molly couldn’t wait to kill him if the rest of the Mighty Nein hadn’t done so already) was because Beau had been in trouble. Beau of all people, and Molly had gotten stabbed for her without a second thought or a single regret.

 

If Molly hadn’t been in such a rush he might have examined his self-preservation instincts a bit more closely. Oh well, that was another problem for another day.

 

It’s already getting into the late afternoon by the time he gets to Born and Bread Bakery, asking every single damn worker in there if they knew a Fatima Lunaless, probably mid-thirties, dark hair, brown skin, kills gnolls, potential kidnapper and, if that last bit was true, no longer Molly’s friend. He left that shop with shaken workers, two gold pieces flung in the general direction of the counter, two pity pastries in his hand and no clue on Fatima.

 

Scowling, Molly ripped the Born and Bread’s address off his scrap of paper, stuffing one of the pastries into his mouth before finding the closest person to get directions to the next address.

 

Halfway there he realised that the sun was setting, as streetlamps began to be lit, the crowd of people slowly dissipating into nothing. 

 

At first, Molly didn’t care at all. He had a second pastry to eat for dinner, and with less people around theoretically he could get to the next bakery even faster.

 

You need to sleep.

 

Shakäste’s voice, or at least what he would probably say in this scenario, echoed in Molly’s head. He frowned, briefly wondering if less than twenty four hours was all it took to go mad from lack of friends to talk to.

 

Still, as much as Molly didn’t want to stop until he at least had  _ something _ , his imaginary Shakäste voice had a point, as Shakäste often did. Not only would a lack of sleep be bad for beating up kidnappers and rescuing friends - funny how he cared about his sleep so much when it was someone else’s health on the line and not his - but chances were the bakery would be closed anyway. 

 

So he kept walking until he found an inn, sitting himself down at the bar and ordering a mug of the fanciest alcohol they had. Luckily it wasn’t a particularly fancy bar so it only cost him three silver. 

 

“You look like you’ve had a rough day.” The barkeeper, a blonde human woman who introduced herself as Anali, said. 

 

“Try a rough week.” Molly said, before thinking about it. “Actually, scratch that. Rough  _ life _ .” 

 

“I’m sorry to hear it.” Anali said as she poured out his drink. “If you need anything else, just let me know.” She passed him the drink, and Molly peered down at it, silently cursing the universe for everything awful it had done to him. 

 

“Unless you know who Fatima Lunaless is, I don’t think there’s much you can do.” Ordinarily, Molly would have loved to chat with Anali, who was quite attractive and seemed nice. But under these circumstances he was just too tightly wound to flirt or chat or anything he normally did. Because normally he had his  _ friends  _ around. 

 

Anali blinked. “Fatima? I know her, she works at the bakery, The Sweet Spot.” Molly took back every single criticism of the universe he’d made. Perhaps sometimes it did want to give him a break.

 

It was lucky he hadn’t yet taken a sip of his drink because he would have spat it out, rounding on Anali, leaning forwards and practically standing up in his chair. “You do? How?” 

 

“My little sister works at the bakery too, she’s good friends with Fatima, they’ve visited here a lot. Why are you looking for her?” Anali raised an eyebrow but she didn’t look too suspicious. Just curious. 

 

Molly managed to stop himself from blurting out ‘I think she kidnapped my best friend and stole some of my most important possessions’ but he had a feeling that wouldn’t go over well. 

 

“I did a contract with her to fight some gnolls yesterday. I was hoping to catch up, since I’m staying in town for a few more days.” He shrugged casually, hoping she couldn’t hear how heavy his heart was pounding in his chest because  _ clues clues clues  _ and he was desperately trying to appear normal now. 

 

“Gnolls? Usually her contracts are for goblins and things. Wow, that’s impressive.” Anali said, nodding her head. “If you wanted to catch up with her, she works at the bakery almost every day except when she has a contract.”

 

“Every day? That sounds… excessive.” Molly said, willing to say just about anything to keep this conversation going.

 

“Oh, it is. She’s the biggest workaholic I’ve ever seen. Her girlfriend too, I’m pretty sure. They work and work all day, but they must be spending the money on better gear and weapons or sending it away somewhere because my sister says they’ve been in the seedier section of town for a while.” Anali shook her head, before frowning. “Ugh, she probably wouldn’t like me telling you that. Please don’t tell Fatima I said any of that.” 

 

“I won’t tell a soul, I promise you that.” Molly put a finger over his lips, filing away all this information. If they were working so much, but still lived in an apparently less-than-pleasant part of town, what were they using all that money for? 

 

There were many things about this entire situation that didn’t make sense, and doubts were starting to bloom in Molly’s stomach. Still, that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was getting Shakäste, his coat, and anything else they’d stolen back. Understanding Fatima’s financial choices was not an important step in accomplishing that.

 

“Well, thank you for telling me about it anyway. I’ll pay a visit to Fatima tomorrow, but for tonight, I think I’ll just take a room if you could.” Molly pulled out a gold piece from his pouch and placed it on the table. Anali’s eyes widened and she looked up at him curiously, before beginning to rummage in a pouch on her belt for change.

 

Molly waved a hand at her. “Don’t bother with change, you’ve been helpful enough tonight. Just directions to a room, preferably one with a lock.” He stood up, polishing off the last of his drink and setting the mug down on the bar.

 

Anali nodded slowly, slipping the gold piece into her coin pouch. “Well, we’ve got an open room upstairs three doors to the left. I could send up some food if you like.”

 

“Nah, I’ll be fine. Thank you, Anali.” Molly cast the woman a smile over his shoulder as he found the stairs to the rooms. Three doors to the left led him to a small room with a single bed, comfortable and well-kept. He triple-checked the door was locked and shut the window as tight as he could.

 

His scimitars he kept in close so that he could grab them at a moment’s notice, and his coin purse he shoved into his boots before tucking those underneath the bed. Once he lay down on the bed he instinctively turned his head to the side to look for Shakäste or Fjord or anyone else he knew. Of course there was no one there, nothing there except a shiver running up Molly’s spine and the simmering anger rolling over in his stomach.

 

Sighing deeply, Molly ran a finger through his hair, which was greasy and dirty and badly in need of a wash. Much like the rest of him, though at least most of the gnoll bloodstains had been on his coat. Cringing, Molly decided that the first thing he’d do once he found Shakäste was to find a bathhouse somewhere in Felderwin before they vacated the town. He did  _ not  _ want to see the Mighty Nein again looking like he’d gone through… well, everything he’d gone through. 

 

If there were there, a traitorous voice in Molly’s mind whispered. After all, there was no way to know if they were going to head to Zadash immediately. They may be doing other things, may have gotten delayed, may have arrived only to decide they didn’t really want to wait for weeks and weeks or however long it might take for Molly to maybe arrive. 

 

Oh, if only Shakäste or Yasha or literally anyone else in the Mighty Nein (and he was including Kiri) were here to parse through the nonsense in his life. Molly loved nonsense, he lived and breathed it like most people breathed oxygen, but nonsense without someone to keep him at least a little bit grounded was just aimless chaos, and that wasn’t very fun at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, planning out this chapter: Oh, then he can go get the address from Veerdwin's office and break in and do Darkness to escape ha! I'm brilliant
> 
> Me, halfway through writing this chapter: Hang on Molly can't do Darkness (bless the anonymous commentor who pointed this out to me way back in Chapter 11) okay so I'll have him try and fail to do Darkness thats funny.  
> ...  
> HANG ON MOLLY CAN'T READ
> 
> So yeah that was fun. It's also the kind of thing Molly would forget himself in his current one-track mindset so I kept the whole misadventure (Also for anyone who's curious, Brylin, Fatima and Steph's address is 136 Beacon Street, South District, Felderwin. I have no idea how Felderwin actually works but here we are it's an AU already anyways i can do what i want)
> 
> Also also shout out to Anali for being the worst barkeeper ever. Can't keep a secret to save her life. She tells all her friends about the weird-ass purple tiefling with a horrific fashion sense who showed up at her bar at brunch the next day.
> 
> Also also also, you can probably imagine the kill bill sirens just going off through about 95% of this fic to be honest. Molly is a pretty chill dude but in my experience super chill people usually have kill bill sirens or some equivalent going off in the back of their head constantly. I mean, that's my life basically, kill bill sirens going off the second something mildly inconvenient or unexpected happens while outwardly I'm just like "hmm. okay that's happen." and to me that feels like a very Molly vibe. Caduceus is probably the only genuinely chill person in existence but I wouldn't be surprised if he is extremely Not Chill somewhere down the line, perhaps in relation to his currently AWOL family.


	19. The Sweet Spot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Molly gets some exercise

The next morning Molly woke up and was out the door before the sun even began to peek over the tops of the trees, throwing a silver piece to whoever was behind the bar - someone different to Anali, but surprised and confused all the same - as he glided out of there, determined and not about to waste a single damn second. 

 

The few people he passed along the way must have seen something in the gleam of his eyes or the rigidity of his shoulders that told them he was on a  _ mission _ , because half of them crossed to the other side of the street as soon as they saw him, and the others seemed to almost shrink as he passed. Either that or they were just racist, which was a likely possibility but one Molly tended to ignore in favour of more interesting explanations.

 

He only had to ask for directions from a passer-by once, and soon enough could smell the sweet scent of baking bread wafting through the air, and he followed it like a homing beacon until he came across the small shop, wedged between a shoe shop and a bookstore, a single light on inside and a sign probably reading ‘The Sweet Spot’ hanging from an awning. 

 

Molly zoomed up to the window and pressed his face against the glass, squinting for any sign of Fatima or one of the others. He could see counters, bathed in light coming from a backroom whose door was swung wide open. Every now and then Molly could see someone walk past the door, but couldn’t see enough to tell who it was. 

  
Frowning, Molly tested the door, only to find it locked. The polite thing to do would be to wait until they were open, and then he could ask questions. Molly would probably do that, if Shakäste weren’t missing and this was his best lead of finding him.

 

So instead, he knocked sharply on the door three times, looking back through the window to see if someone was coming. When there was no response, he did it again. 

 

This time there was a rustling from inside, followed by footsteps and the sound of a door unlocking. It opened slightly to reveal a short and stocky man, dressed in an apron and squinting up at him over a pair of round glasses.

 

“Look, we don’t open for another hour, you’ll have to come back.” He spoke in a gruff voice, obviously displeased at having been interrupted. “I’m very busy right now.” 

 

“I’m sorry, but this is important. Does Fatima Lunaless work here?” He asked. The man blinked, his eyes flicking to the side before focusing back on Molly.

 

“Yea, she does. Why?” The man grunted, looking more confused than anything. So probably not a co-conspirator. “She’s in the back, working.”

 

“Could I talk to her quickly? There’s just something I need to ask her.” Molly could feel his tail twitch at the confirmation that Fatima was here. Here and working like everything was normal, even though it certainly wasn’t. 

 

“Sir, we don’t have a lot of time for this-” 

 

“I’ll only be a second, thank you!” Molly’s patience was drawing painfully thin, and he quickly pushed the door all the way open and brushed past the man before he could do anything about it, darting past the counter and into the back room.

 

There were two other bakers there, all wearing aprons with their hair tied back. The first was a young-looking human woman with the same bright blonde hair as Anali, kneading dough on a bench and humming a song to herself. The other, carrying a tray of freshly baked loaves of bread and placing it gently on a table, was unmistakably Fatima, though she had swapped out her fighting gear and armour for a simple pale green dress with a long skirt.

 

Both women looked up at he entered, likely having heard at least some of the commotion at the door. The blonde woman, presumably Anali’s sister, just widened her eyes in surprise and took a step back at the sudden intrusion. 

 

But Molly wasn’t worried about her. He was looking straight at Fatima, slightly enjoying the way recognition flashed in her eyes, followed swiftly by fear.

 

“Molly-” She began, nearly dropping the tray of bread she was carrying and hurriedly resting it down on the table, a good quarter of it hanging off the edge, taking off a pair of oven mitts before wiping her hands on her apron and taking a step back. It was not the behaviour of an innocent or oblivious woman. 

 

“Yes. Molly.” Molly said, taking a step forward. Not pulling out a scimitar, not yet, but extremely aware of where they rested on his hips, completely visible since he didn’t have his coat.

 

“Uh-”

 

“Fatima, nice to see you again.” Molly tilted his head slightly to side, taking another step towards Fatima and generally just acting as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening at all. 

 

“Excuse me!” The man burst through the door, drawing everyone’s attention. He pointed a stubby finger at Molly, who didn’t even flinch. “You can _ not _ just walk in here! I must ask you to leave!”

 

“I’m sorry, but I really must talk to Fatima about a mutual friend of ours.” Molly said calmly. “It should only take a minute.” 

 

“Fatima…” Anali’s sister looked frantically between Fatima, Molly and the man. “What’s going on?”

 

“Nothing.” Fatima said, standing up a little straighter and seeming to regain some of her composure. “What are you doing here, Molly?”

 

“You actually know this person?” The man growled, putting his hands on his hips. Molly folded his arms, just waiting to see what Fatima would say. Perhaps she  _ was  _ innocent, though right now he doubted it. Still, he would give her one chance to offer a decent explanation. 

 

“Yes, he’s one of the people I did that contract with a couple days ago.” Fatima nodded politely in Molly’s direction without actually making eye contact with him, running one hand through her hair, which was tied in a loose ponytail. “But… I don’t understand why you’re back.”

 

“Oh, it’s just Shakäste. You remember him, right? Very dear friend of mine, but I can’t seem to find him anywhere. You wouldn’t happen to have seen him, have you?” Molly made sure to inject just the tiniest bit of sadness into his words, to both make all three of them pity him and to mask his own rage. 

 

It worked. Anali’s sister looked very sympathetic, and even the man - who must have been the head baker or owner or something - seemed to soften up a bit. Fatima, on the other hand, just stiffened, her hands clenching into fists.

 

She was a terrible actress, wasn’t she. 

 

“No. I’m sorry, I haven’t.” She said, speaking just a tad too quickly to sound genuine. “But I’m afraid I really should get back to work. We have to make a lot of food before we open.” 

 

“That’s awful. Have you spoken to the Crownsguard? Perhaps they can find him.” Anali’s sister said, and Molly cast a genuinely soft smile in her direction. 

 

“I have, but I still wanted to look myself. Look in places the Crownsguard won’t, you know?” He said, letting his shoulders sag and putting on a defeated look. Anali’s sister murmured something else sympathetic, while Fatima just looked more and more agitated with every second Molly still stood in the room.

 

“You should look somewhere else. Perhaps he just went to look in the Inner City, or one of the other districts.” She said.

 

“I was hoping perhaps I could talk to Brylin and Steph, too, see if they saw anything or if Shakäste talked to them about leaving. Do you know where they are?” Molly took another subtle step closer to Fatima, who was just barely holding on to her composure. 

 

“They’ll both be working too. They do odd jobs around the city, I’m sorry but I wouldn’t know exactly where they are.” She said, words seeming to fly just a little faster than her brain could keep up, like she just wanted this conversation to be over. 

 

Molly felt a small flicker of glee spark in his heart. He knew all too well how talking in a rush could result in some words that would not usually be said. All he needed to do was press a little harder.

 

“Oh, do you know where they usually would be? Any places they work a lot? It would really be a big help for me.” Molly said, really trying to pile on as much guilt as possible. 

 

“I think Brylin works with the butcher a lot.” Anali’s sister piped up helpfully, and Molly thanked her, taking the opportunity to ask for the address, along with any other places Brylin and Steph might be. With every second - and Molly made sure to make a comment after every single address just to drag out the process - he could see Fatima losing more and more patience. 

 

By now he was thoroughly convinced that she was at the very least involved. But all he needed was one final confirmation. One slip-up. And then he had it.

 

“You know, you should probably just let the Crownsguard handle it. People vanish from their beds all the time, they’ll know how to deal with it.” Fatima said. The split second the words left her mouth Molly could see regret, her eyes widening like an animal who looked up just in time to see an arrow about to kill them. The moment Fatima realised she’d said something she definitely shouldn’t have.

 

“Oh? I never said Shakäste vanished during the night.” Molly said sweetly, his tone sharply contrasted with the absolutely venomous glare he was giving Fatima. Gotcha, bitch. 

 

Anali’s sister and the head baker both frowned like they were missing some important context, but Molly could see the blood rush from Fatima’s face, a dozen emotions passing through her eyes. Truly, a horrific actress. 

 

“Now, hang on- that-” Fatima stammered, unconsciously taking a step back as Molly very purposefully took another forward, now only a few feet away from Fatima. One hand itched towards one of his scimitars, and from such a close distance Molly could easily see how Fatima’s plan switched from denial to  _ running _ , her eyes darting all over the room before settling on the open door out. Freedom.

 

Fatima raised one hand out and brought it down swiftly on the tray of bread she’d placed down partly hanging over the edge, sending it and the bread loaves flying. Molly took a step back to dodge the still hot loaves and tray, one hand shielding his face while the other reached for his scimitar. But in the same movement Fatima had spun on her heel and run around the other side of the bench, shoving Anali’s sister to the side and pushing the head baker out of the way in her haste to get out.

 

Oh, no you fucking don’t. 

 

Scowling, Molly gave chase, following Fatima out of the bakery and into the early morning streets. The skies were streaked with the reds and oranges of a sunrise, the streets cast in harsh shadows that served to make finding Fatima a bit more difficult. But Molly saw a flash of movement to the left and took off, his singular goal of taking her  _ down  _ the only thing on his mind. 

 

Fatima knew the streets better than him, taking a turn into an alleyway at seemingly the first opportunity. But she was hampered by the long skirt in her working clothes that she was wearing whilst Molly had no such issue, and he was able to keep up despite his lack of local knowledge. 

 

He was led from alleys to streets to more alleys, and Molly could see Fatima look over her shoulder, see him still pursuing, and becoming more and more desperate. But the longer the chase went on, the more Molly’s heart was pounding in his chest, the more he worried he might lose her he became. He had to end this.

 

Fatima turned into one more alley and Molly skidded to catch the same, brushing into the wall and probably gaining a few nasty scratches he didn’t have time to worry about. 

 

“ _ Stop right there you bitch!”  _ He didn’t realise he’d spoken in Infernal until after the words had already left his lips, a powerful and unmistakable energy curling into each syllable.

 

In front of him, Fatima cried out and tripped, twisting in the air and landing roughly on her side. One hand flew to her head and she writhed around until she was on her back, Molly running up to her and pointing a scimitar to her throat before she could even think of doing anything else. A tiny stream of blood ran from her nose and she wiped it away, leaving a streak of red behind.

 

Her eyes went wide, while Molly was just slightly confused. That didn’t seem to be Hellish Rebuke, at least how Kaimos had described it. This was something else, but whatever it was, it was effective. 

 

“W-what the fuck was that?” Fatima said, her shoulders shaking but not moving. 

 

“Nothing you need to worry about unless you try to run again.” Molly said, kneeling down but not moving the scimitar. Just for good measure, he pulled out his other one as well, though he didn’t cut himself to coat them with ice. If he needed more intimidation, he could do that. “Now, where’s Shakäste?”

 

Fatima didn’t answer him, her chest heaving and possible stories obviously running through her mind. She looked down at the scimitar and then at Molly’s face, seeming to weigh up her options. After a few moments of silence, Molly sighed theatrically.

 

“You can’t pretend like you don’t have something to do with it, not after that. You’re a terrible actress, but I can’t imagine that Brylin and Steph are much better.” He shrugged lightly, like he wouldn’t particularly care about killing her right here. 

 

He would, he didn’t really want to kill her, but she was the barrier to finding Shakäste, so if she had to go down, he wouldn’t regret it. 

 

“You don’t know where they are, or where we live.” Fatima said, cringing away from the scimitar as much as she could. 

 

“No.” Molly said, spinning his other scimitar in his hand without looking. “But they know where you are supposed to be. How long do you think it would take them to look at the bakery if you never returned home from work?” 

 

Fatima’s face tightened, and Molly waited patiently for her to decide that she actually did want to live to see tomorrow, thanks very much. 

 

“Look, he’s gone.” She spoke through gritted teeth, her eyes firmly on the blade of the scimitar still pointed at her throat.

 

What.

 

Something dark must have flickered over Molly’s face, and Fatima winced, shaking her head. “Ugh-no, he’s not  _ dead _ , though, I swear.”

 

“Then where  _ is  _ he.” Molly spat out, leaning forwards and letting the scimitar hover barely half an inch above Fatima’s throat. 

 

“At the Lawmaster’s house.” Fatima said, her eyes wide. “Look, I can tell you where it is, I can tell you everything!”

 

Molly’s eyes narrowed, and after a good ten seconds of letting the silence hang in the air, he drew back the scimitar.

 

“Start talking.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh ho ho ho, the plot thickens. 
> 
> Good job keepin them secrets under pressure Fatima ;)


	20. Blackmail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Molly counters blackmail with even more blackmail.

Molly found himself seated in a small and cramped dining room in the similarly small and cramped house that Fatima shared with Brylin and Steph. Anali hadn’t been kidding when she’d said they lived in the seedier part of town, but Molly had only raised his eyebrows at the rotting wood along the windows and the half a dozen locks on the door. He wasn’t one to judge about things like that.

 

He  _ was  _ one to judge about kidnapping his friends though, so he didn’t allow himself to feel any pity for them, folding his arms as he sat down on an old wooden chair and waited for Fatima to sit down across the table.

 

“Well, we’re out of the streets, as you requested.” He snarled, drawing out every syllable of the last word. Fatima had insisted they get somewhere inside before she said anything, and it was only after Molly made it perfectly clear that she would not get a second chance if she tried to run again that he agreed, banking on her self-preservation instincts to win out over anything else. “Where’s Shakäste. And the rest of my things, for that matter.” 

 

“Most of your stuff is in Steph’s room.” Fatima said quickly, shaking her head lightly. “She’s the one who sorts through loot, I can go get it-”

 

“Ah, no. It can wait.” Molly still held onto both his scimitars, ready to go at a moment’s notice, his eyes never leaving Fatima. “I believe I asked about Shakäste first.” 

 

Fatima noticeably gulped, fiddling with her hands. She opened her mouth to say something before quickly closing it, reconsidering whatever her words might have been. She exhaled, before looking up and looking Molly in the eyes for the first time in a while.

 

“The Lawmaster, Lawmaster Ransford. He’s trying to collect magic users, powerful ones preferably. With the Empire at war and things probably going to get worse… he wants some kind of insurance. People to work for him, or people he can trade for something else. Usually those with powerful magic are too rich for him to pay, work for an organisation already, or both, and Ransford wants some of that power on his side.” Fatima sat with her shoulders tense and her voice low, eyes flicking towards the door every now and then as if to make sure no one was busting it down.

 

Molly narrowed his eyes further. “So what, you work for him too?” 

 

“Technically… yes.” Fatima hung her head. “We take contracts from the Crownsguard to fight gnolls and goblins and things, and we scout out the people who take the contracts with us. If they can use good magic, then…” She winced, glancing up at Molly.

 

“You kidnap them and rob whoever you leave behind.” He said bluntly, not even bothering to hide his anger at this point. 

 

“Usually there isn’t anyone to leave behind. Most people who are desperate enough to take out contracts with the Crownsguard to do hunting parties are alone. Easier targets, too. We don’t usually kidnap someone from a group.” With every word, Fatima seemed to shrink lower and lower into her seat, burying her face in her hands. 

 

“So what changed with Shakäste and I?” After Fatima didn’t answer, Molly scowled. “Why did you take him? Why not me? You saw how I used my scimitars, that was magic.”

 

“Look- we haven’t been able to find anyone in a while. We-we needed to give him someone soon and-we thought you just had magic swords-” Fatima winced, gently pressing a finger to the dried blood at her nose. “We didn’t think you could do anything  _ else _ .” 

 

Molly frowned, sensing there was far more to this story. “Keep explaining. And do remember that you have a lot to lose from not telling me everything.” 

 

Fatima looked up at him, biting her lip, and her eyes seemed to be glistening. 

 

“It’s Brylin’s brother.” She finally said, wincing like she’d broken some unknown promise just by admitting it. Molly’s frown deepened, vaguely remembering a brother being mentioned but not putting together how it was rele- oh.

 

“He works for the Lawmaster.”

 

“Yes. He’s a servant in his house, and Ransford has promised that if Brylin doesn’t give him what he wants, Aldon’s the one who pays for it.” 

 

Well. Blackmail. That changes things slightly. The new information tumbled around in Molly’s brain, assumptions making way for facts and plans shifting, new ideas already forming. 

 

“So, Shakäste is in that asshole’s house?” He spoke slowly, carefully considering his options. 

 

Fatima nodded, not bothering to hide the guilt on her face anymore. “If he agrees to work for Ransford then he’ll stay in the house, though probably tied up until Ransford thinks he can trust him. If not, then he might just be held in the dungeon, or sent off somewhere else. I don’t know where, but it usually takes a few days for Ransford to decide.” 

 

Molly stroked his chin, tapping the hilt of one of his scimitars carefully. Then he looked at Fatima. 

 

“Alright then, here’s what we’re going to do.” He finally said, slapping one hand down on the table. “You, Brylin and Steph are going to help me sneak into this Lawmaster’s house and free Shakäste, along with anyone else who might be trapped inside.”

 

Fatima’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “ _ What?” _

 

“You heard me. Consider it your repayment for kidnapping my friend and who knows how many other people. We can also get Brylin’s brother while we’re there. That way we all win.” He smiled smugly, feeling quite pleased with himself. 

 

“Th-that’s suicide! A lot of those people- some of them do agree to work for Ransford, he gives them a place to sleep, food, money- we’d have to fight-” 

 

“That’s why we’re not busting in, we’re  _ sneaking in _ .” Molly rolled his eyes, spinning one of his scimitars. 

 

“I-there’s no way we’d get away with it-”

 

“Or... “ Molly drawled, taking pleasure with how Fatima shut up, colour draining from her face. “I could go alone, thus raising my chances of being caught. If I do, I’m sure Ransford would be very interested to hear who let me know what he was doing.”

 

He let the implications of that sink in, horror dawning on the womans face. Would he actually do it? Eh, he’d have to see how he felt in the moment. Being blackmailed was certainly worth some pity, but it didn’t change their actions. 

 

“On the other hand, if you helped me, the chances of survival for all of us go up, and we can put all of this behind us and part ways as friendly acquaintances.” Molly stood up and walked around the table, giving Fatima a light pat on the top of her head. “Of course, I don’t expect you to make this decision without the other two. When will they come back?”

 

“Uh-” Fatima seemed frozen, uncertainty plain as day on her face. “Late afternoon, usually.” 

 

Molly glanced out the small window outside, to see the sun still not even at the top of the sky yet. Hmm. Still, Fatima had said that they had a few days, since Molly couldn’t see Shakäste agreeing to work for anyone. He was far too cool for that. They had time. 

 

“Well then, looks like you have lots of time to tell me absolutely everything you know about the Lawmaster’s house! Oh, and giving me back all the things you stole.” Grinning widely, Molly gave Fatima another pat on the head. “I want to to do this as quickly as possible.” 

 

After a moment, Fatima sighed, before standing up and leading Molly to a small room in the house that was apparently Steph’s bedroom. It was also an absolute mess, with trinkets and clothes and all manner of other assorted items piled on shelves and hanging from the walls. It took Fatima three trips in there to retrieve everything they had stolen, including Shakäste’s cloak, his components pouch, coin purse and a small leather bag that Molly had never looked into but could assume held some personal belongings. Molly took all of these things with a glare at Fatima, not quite accepting the offered ‘sorry’ since he sincerely doubted he’d be getting one if he hadn’t caught her. 

 

When she finally managed to pull out his coat, which had apparently been shoved under Steph’s bed - ‘because it’s an eyesore and no person should have to look at it’ Steph’s words, not Fatima’s apparently - he pulled it on immediately, before rummaging through every single pocket to check everything was there, starting with the one that held Caleb’s note. 

 

He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding as the sleeves settled comfortably over his arms, the familiar fabric providing a soft sensation that he’d been itching without. The note was undamaged and folded up when he pulled it out and he nodded to himself before glancing up in the direction of Fatima. Her eyes had zeroed in on the note before flicking back up to Molly, and he groaned.

 

“You read it, didn’t you.”

 

“Steph did. She’s nosy.” Fatima winced. “She told us what it said.”

 

“Great.” Molly turned to the side (he didn’t dare turn his back to Fatima, just in case), tucking the note back into his pocket. 

 

“We didn’t get it. Why did Caleb have to write your name down?” 

 

Molly shot her a very dangerous look, and she quickly held her hands up in surrender. 

 

“Sorry, sorry. None of my business.” She shook her head, looking out the window before sighing. 

 

“No, it’s not.” 

 

There was a brief period of awkward silence, and Fatima let herself fall down into an empty chair, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m going to die.”

 

“Be optimistic. Once this is over, you can find another line of work that doesn’t involve kidnapping people, and then you probably won’t have to do something like this again.” 

 

“We were just trying to protect Brylin’s brother.” Fatima’s voice wavered. “The Crownsguard are in on it, there was nothing else to do, we were trying to save up money to buy Ransford off so we wouldn’t have to do this and Aldon could leave.”

 

Molly hesitated, mostly because he was actually starting to feel some sympathy. Not a lot, mind you, but some. Then he remembered waking up only to find three of his best friends missing. No way to know if they were dead or alive (alive, hopefully alive). He remembered how his three other friends were probably still mourning his death at this point. And how his only other friend, who had resurrected him, taken care of him, and helped him more than he ever had the need to, was now stuck in a shitty situation squarely because of the person in front of him. And all of his sympathy withered away like a scraggly plant in winter. 

 

“Then consider this your chance for redemption.” Fatima seemed almost surprised at the depth in his voice, her gaze flicking upwards, because no matter how angry he was, second chances was something important. Molly quickly changed tack, smiling brightly and allowing cheer to seep in his voice. Better to keep her guessing. “Now, do you have any food in here?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who's ready for a jailllbrrreeeeeaaaakkkkkkkkkkkkkk (again)


	21. Friends and Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Molly definitely thinks this plan through

Brylin nearly had a heart attack when she walked in the front door only to find Molly sprawled out over two chairs, one leg resting on the table and a plate of cheap crackers resting on his chest. Molly considered her reaction - and subsequent near destruction of himself and the table before Fatima appeared to explain that he hadn’t broken into their home and/or murdered her - hilarious enough that he made a distinct effort to replicate it for when Steph came home. 

 

While Molly stretched himself out on top of the table, much to the embarrassment and eternal mortification of Fatima, he also explained exactly what the deal was. Namely, they were going to solve their problems in one single swoop. They would help Molly infiltrate Lawmaster Ransford’s house and rescue Shakäste since they were the assholes who put him there in the first place. Molly would then help them find Brylin’s brother and get him out of there because he was a good person. Relatively. Vaguely. Eh, he considered himself a good person, so Brylin’s side-eye was easily dismissed. 

 

Either way, she was on board as soon as the rescue of her brother was mentioned, and only slightly pissed off when she heard how Molly had busted into her girlfriend’s place of work and proceeded to chase her through the streets. 

 

She even found a scraggly flower growing out in the street for Molly to hold in his mouth, just to complete the picture for Steph. Fatima threatened to move out immediately and go tell the Lawmaster exactly what was happening, but both Molly and Brylin called her bluff. Instead she just vanished to her bedroom and presumably screamed into her pillow. Whatever made her regret the series of poor decisions that led to this scenario, the better off Molly felt. 

 

It was already dark by the time Steph  _ finally  _ came home, her grumbling audible even before she opened the door. Molly quickly shot off a Thaumaturgy cantrip to turn the torchlight Brylin had lit on the wall a dark pink colour, giving the room an ambient glow.

 

“Guys, you won’t believe the  _ shit  _ day I’ve-” Steph opened the door to see Molly lying on his back on the table, flower sticking out of his mouth and one hand spinning an ice-covered scimitar while the entire room was bathed in a vaguely romantic pink light. Her mouth dropped open.

 

“Whatever happened to you today, I bet my last couple of days have been  _ worse _ .” He said, taking the flower out of his mouth and grinning widely. Oh, her face was truly glorious. Hopefully he never died and lost his memories for a third time, just so he could remember that for eternity. 

 

Steph looked blankly at Brylin, who was in the corner of the room absolutely busting her gut and not even trying to hide it. 

 

“ _ what the actual fuck-”  _ Steph wheezed, one hand twitching to her belt where a dagger was probably hidden seemingly out of instinct. 

 

“Don’t worry! We’re working together again!” Molly said brightly. “To get my friend back. You remember, the one you kidnapped? Yes, I figured that out.” He would never let them live this down. At least, not until he got Shakäste back.

 

“what.” Steph had yet to recover from her shock, her cheeks redder than a tomato and trying desperately to look anywhere except at Molly. 

 

“And Aldon! We’ll rescue Aldon too!” Brylin had apparently wanted to bust in and rescue Aldon for quite some time now, but they’d been hampered by the simple fact that three people was usually not enough to stage a home invasion with and hope to leave with their lives. 

 

But three people plus Molly? Now that was an entirely different story. Molly hadn’t even bothered with the ‘if you don’t help me I’ll snitch on all of y’all asses’ line because Brylin had been shaking as his hand as soon as he so much as hinted at the possibility of rescuing her brother.

 

“Aldon?” Steph still seemed half shell-shocked even as Brylin quickly explained the plan she, Fatima and Molly had workshopped while waiting for Steph to arrive and inbetween planning to absolutely embarrass the poor elven girl. 

 

“And we’re doing it tonight!” Molly exclaimed cheerfully once Brylin was finished. 

 

Steph made a strange strangled sound and Molly just patted her gently on the head like he’d done with Fatima. They were all here now, no time to waste. “Yes, I know, it’s very exciting. Fatima!”

 

The human woman appeared, having changed into her proper fighting gear sometime after she’d excused herself from Molly and Brylin’s tomfoolery. She carried her crossbow and swords with her, with a grim but still slightly humiliated expression. 

 

“Steph, I apologise for what you had to witness.” She said seriously. 

 

“We’re going to die if we do this.” 

 

“Most likely. But we  _ definitely  _ will if we don’t.”

 

Molly stood there with his hands on his hips. “Wow, you two sure are pessimists. No wonder you never tried to rescue Aldon before now.” He glanced around for Brylin, but she had already disappeared, presumably to get her own armour and weapons. “You’d better hurry up, Steph. There’s lots of jailbreaking to be done.” 

 

Steph’s mouth twitched and she silently walked in the direction of her room. Molly ignored the muffled screaming that came from it a few moments later, smiling fondly at Fatima’s resigned expression. 

 

A few minutes later, they were all assembled. Brylin and Molly both raring to go, Fatima and Steph solemnly promising the other that they could get their stuff if they died and the other survived. 

 

“Let’s do this!” Brylin announced, grinning and busting throwing the door open so forcefully it broke off its hinges. Molly cheered after her as they excited, vaguely hearing a ‘I hope the guards shoot me first so this can end’ somewhere behind him. 

 

They blundered and blustered their way to the walls of the Inner City, whereupon they faced their first challenge. How to get through the gate. Luckily, Molly, the resident expert on jailbreaks, had come up with a genius plan for this entire scenario. 

 

One of these days a plan of his was bound to go off without a single hitch! So hopefully today was that day.

 

“Alright, here we goooooo!” Molly whispered, before dramatically flopping over into Fatima’s arms. 

 

“What is going on?” Steph’s voice was  _ barely  _ below a regular speaking voice - seriously, what kind of rogue was she - and filled with panic. Hmm. Perhaps he should have filled her in on the plan in more detail along the way.

 

He creaked open one eye. “I’m playing unconscious. You guys pretend you’re bringing in another magic user for Ransford, and just walk on past.” 

 

“Wait, what? We didn’t plan this!” Fatima said, nearly dropping Molly. Okay, maybe he should have thought about this particular part of the plan in more detail. Or discussed it with Fatima and Brylin. “That is also a shitty idea.” 

 

Steph looked around the corner from where they were currently hidden, worry plain on her face. “Okay, okay, look- there’s only two guards on the wall. I can do Minor Illusion and distract them, and if they only send one I can charm the other and we can go past.” She said quickly. “Hopefully.”

 

Hmm. That was a much better plan.

 

“What if you don’t manage to charm them?” Fatima said.

 

Here Brylin lifted up her warhammer, forcibly inserting herself into the discussion. “Then we can kill him.”

 

“Or just knock him out.” Steph said, wincing. 

 

“Wow you sure do care about not killing someone who’s just doing their job.” Molly said, stumbling up out of Fatima’s arms. “Funny how you couldn’t manage that for two travellers just trying to get to Zadash.”

 

Steph looked pained. “Sorry, okay! Look, let’s just do this so I can die and go to the afterlife.”

 

Molly barked out a short laugh. “Pft. I’ve been there. Living is far more interesting.” He then quickly shoved Steph out a few steps so she could hurry up and do whatever she needed to do. She winced before vanishing into the shadows of the moonlit streets.

 

“Wait, you actually died?” Fatima seemed more and more horrified the more she learned about him. Good. Maybe she believed he actually remembered the afterlife. He didn’t, but she didn’t know that. 

  
“More than once. They sent me back” He grinned mischievously. 

 

Brylin whistled lowly. “Damn dude, you are hardcore.” 

 

There was a sudden screaming that sounded like it was coming from at least one street over. Molly poked his head around the corner to see what was happening, spying two guards standing on either side of the gate. Both of them were startled by the sudden sound, glancing at each other before one began to jog towards it. Molly pressed up against the wall as he passed, before quickly starting to move, dragging Fatima and Brylin along with him. As they did he saw a shadow dart along ahead of them, and in a split second Steph was sidling up to the guard who had remained by the gate, looking mightily uncomfortable as she did so. 

 

Nevertheless, the guard seemed to relax, and Steph shot them a shaky thumbs up as they passed, rejoining them as they walked through the gate. 

 

“Hey! What are you doing!” Only to encounter more guards on the  _ other  _ side of the gate. Hm. 

 

Perhaps plans he was involved in were just destined to go haywire. Another side effect of the universe deliberately trying to fuck him over as often as possible. 

 

“Hey, no worries!” Steph said, holding her hands up. “It’s all good! Just ask that guard over there!” 

 

The two guards on the Inner City side of the wall glanced at them, before looking at the guard Steph had charmed. He waved, giving them a thumbs up. 

  
“See?” Steph said, sweating bullets. Oh gods. Luckily, it was dark enough the guards couldn’t see how painfully obvious it was that they were up to no good. 

 

“Hmm. Alright then. Hurry along, now, it’s late.”

 

“Thank you very much, we’ll be right along.” Fatima quickly hurried them along, getting them as far away from the guards as quickly as possible. As soon as they were without earshot, she lowered her voice and whispered frantically to them. “We are so fucked.”

 

“We will be with that attitude.” Molly said brightly, determined to have enough cheer and endless confidence in this plan if Fatima and Steph weren’t going to contribute. “We haven’t even gotten to the fun part!”

 

Steph opened her mouth, and Molly just grinned, waiting for her to ask what the fun part was. But she seemed to think better of it, slowly closing her mouth. Molly decided to explain it anyway, because otherwise what was the point of bringing it up. 

 

“We still have to get past the guards at the Lawmaster’s house. Let’s go!” He began walking towards the centre of the city, leading the way except when Brylin or Fatima pointed out he was going the wrong way and he had to pivot on his heel to turn around. 

 

“Oh gods why are we here.” Steph whined, and Molly almost felt bad for dragging the girl along to this. Almost.

 

“Because we’ve all done some shitty things and now we need to go rescue some people who don’t deserve the shitty situations they’re currently in and love us anyway. Mmkay?” He said, promptly shutting Steph and up and probably cancelling any further complaint from Fatima too. Good. Now back to the rescue. 

 

They weaved their way through the Inner City as quickly and quietly as they could, ducking into alleyways whenever someone walked by. Fatima and the others didn’t know these streets as well as they did the ones in the Outer City, but they seemed to know the way to the Lawmaster’s house well enough, or at least that was what Molly was told. He briefly entertained the thought that they could lead him directly into a trap, but considered it unlikely.

 

Firstly, all three of them were shitty actresses. Oh, they’d been innocent-looking enough prior to kidnapping Shakäste, but that was when plans had been running smoothly on their end and Molly hadn’t been anticipating them trying to trick or rob him anyway. Right now, in the middle of a tense situation while Molly was keeping an eye on them? They didn’t have a hope. 

 

Secondly, if one of them did try to betray him, he’d probably just run them through with a scimitar, and they valued their own lives enough to risk potential death by following his plan than near certain death by betraying him. He’d rather  _ not  _ kill them, but if it came down to them versus his chances of rescuing Shakäste, he’d pick Shakäste every time. 

 

So it all worked out perfectly in his mind, and he was quite pleased with how things were going, even as they got closer and Fatima and Steph in particular got more and more antsy. They also began to see Crownsguard roaming the streets, forcing them to stick to the alleys more often, ducking in and relying mostly on Steph to help them sneak around while Fatima gave the directions.

 

Eventually, they wedged themselves into a narrow alley between the backs of two very fancy looking houses, narrowing missing being caught by a passing guard. 

 

“Which door?” Molly asked bouncing lightly on his feet from the nervous energy running through his body. He had his scimitars, currently deactivated, in his hands, but wearing his coat did a lot to calm his nerves after an entire day without it. 

 

“That one. But it’s probably alarmed, the Lawmaster will be alerted immediately if we opened it.” Fatima said, shifting her grip on her shortsword. 

 

“What about the window? Up there?” Steph pointed upwards to a second story window with a step large enough that it might allow someone nimble to rest on it to unlock and open said window. “It might not be alarmed.”

 

“Or it is.” Fatima warned. 

 

“Certainly alarmed door, or maybe alarmed window?” Molly wondered aloud, before gesturing upwards. “Anyone have any rope?” 

 

Sighing, and offering a silent prayer to whichever god she worshipped, Fatima pulled out a rope from a back on her back, passing it automatically to Steph, who began to climb upwards towards the window. The elf tied it onto a decorative awning above the window, tugging on it a few times before dropping it down to the rest of them. 

 

“After you, ladies.” Molly smiled, bowing gracefully to Fatima and Brylin, who shared a glance between each other. Fatima eventually went up first, followed by Brylin, who managed to be remarkably quiet in her plate armour, even if she had to pass her warhammer to Molly in order to climb up the rope.

 

After holding up the warhammer for Brylin to grab it again, Molly climbed up the rope himself, reaching the top after the three women had already ducked inside the building. Looping up the rope and gently sliding the window shut behind him, Molly held his breath for any sign of guards rushing to arrest/kill them all. 

 

But none greeted them, and after a few seconds of standing there silently in one of the most opulent hallways Molly could ever remember seeing (not that there was much competition), he felt they were clear.

 

He smiled triumphantly at the three women, who exchanged looks of varying degrees of fear and excitement for what probably lay ahead. 

 

“So,” He whispered, eyes flicking down each side of the hallway but seeing nothing. “Where to next?”

 

“Dunno.” Brylin shrugged. “We’ve never actually been inside this place before.”

 

Steph grimaced. “We are so fucked.” 

 

Hmm, Molly thought to himself distantly. Perhaps twenty minutes (half of which was spent trying to figure out the best way to lie on a table) wasn’t actually long enough to plan a complicated jailbreak in the home of one of the most important people in the city. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied, Molly definitely did not think this plan through (but on the plus side, Steph is mortified for the rest of her very very long elven life and Fatima regrets many life decisions, so at least they probably won't go back to kidnapping people after this just in case it happens again)


	22. A Thoroughly Necessary Jailbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Molly makes some (kind of) educated guesses and it (vaguely sort of) works out

“Alright, here’s what we’re going to do. Do we know anything about the layout of this place? Even a guess.” Molly whispered. 

 

“The dungeons are probably below ground?” Steph stammered, holding her daggers tight in her hands.

 

“Servant’s quarters would probably be somewhere in the back of the house, right? Out of the way?” Fatima said, seeming to slowly be calming down and accepting that this was happening. “Maybe on the first floor.”

 

“Perfect. So we head down. Hopefully they won’t bother posting guards at the servant’s quarters and we can just waltz in.” Molly said, nodding before looking down either side of the hallway again. Eh, right was always right, right? “Let’s go right. Find some stairs.” 

 

“What if we run into someone?” Fatima asked. “Do we have a plan?”

 

“Knock them out if possible. Steph is free to charm them if she likes.” Molly shrugged. 

 

Steph winced. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I only have two spell slots left.”

 

“Knock them out then, kill only if you have to. Let’s go.” 

 

Without another word they moved to the right, weapons at the ready and alert to any tiny noise. Steph instinctively led the way, much like they’d done in the gnoll caverns, peering around corners and waving them along when the coast was clear. Brylin was only a few steps behind, practically vibrating with energy that was desperate to go somewhere. Fatima and Molly stuck to the rear, grim and determined looks etched on their faces. One way or another, something was going to end tonight. 

 

The hallways weren’t lit by even a single torch, Molly’s night vision casting everything in a dull blue and gray tinge. As they creeped further into the house, the moonlight that managed to make it through the window faded into nothingness. 

 

“Stairs.” Steph’s hushed voice pierced the silence, and she looked over her shoulder to the rest of them. “I see light at the bottom.” 

 

Most likely someone watching at the bottom of the stairs, guarding for any possible intruders that they’d probably assume to come from the ground floor rather than the second. Molly caught Steph’s attention, holding up his scimitars and pretending to stab down at an imaginary foe.

 

She squinted, tilting her head and holding up one dagger in confusion.

 

He tried again, pointing at her dagger and making the stabbing motion. 

 

“What are we waiting for?” Fatima asked, and all at once the rest of them suddenly seemed to remember that she was a human and had no night vision.

 

He sighed, looking back to Steph. “Sneak attack.” He hissed. “But non-lethal!” 

 

Realisation washed over the elf’s face and she nodded, pulling her hood further over her head and disappearing around the corner. Molly heard one footstep before silence and he pushed up against the wall, waiting for either Steph to return, or for things to go terribly, horribly wrong. 

 

“I got him.” Steph took a step around the corner. All three of those waiting, tightly wound up and already on alert for anything out of the ordinary, nearly jumped out of their skins. Fatima pressed a hand against her mouth, and Molly gave a quick thumbs up, walking around the corner.

 

The staircase was grand with an engraved banister and a soft carpet draped across each step that Molly couldn’t help but smile at. What a way to make it easier for him to sneak around. At the bottom of the steps a twitching body lay sprawled on the ground. Molly approached it warily, taking note of how there didn’t seem to be any blood on him. 

 

“What did you do?” He asked, tilting his head in Steph’s direction. 

 

“Chokehold.” She said, miming putting one arm around someone’s neck while holding the other over their mouth, already looking around the large foyer-type room they now found themselves in. Doors and hallways led off in all directions, which no indication of what led where. Still, they had a vague direction of ‘first floor, back of the house’ so they headed that way, Steph still leading the way while Molly ducked into the back just to make sure Fatima didn’t bump into anything to lose her way. 

 

They peeked into doors, wincing at every squeak of the wood and light clanking from metal on metal as armour shifted and feet scuffed against wood. They saw studies, empty bedrooms, a large dining room, and all manner of spares rooms that seemed to only be designed to hold all the random crap a rich person seemed worthwhile. 

 

“Oh shi-” Fatima quickly stifled her words but managed to draw the attention of the rest of them. 

 

“Found people.” She whispered, grimacing and holding the handle of the door she’d opened and frantically shut. 

 

“Servants?” Brylin asked hopefully, hefting her warhammer. 

 

“Maybe. Steph?” Fatima asked, and the elf quickly replaced Fatima at the door, edging it open ever so slowly ad peering inside. 

 

“Looks like it.” Steph muttered. “How do we-oof!” She clasped a hand over her mouth to stop from making anymore noise, as she was rather roughly pushed to the side by Brylin, whose patience for sneaking around had been growing thinner with every moment. 

 

Sharing a glance, the other three followed her inside, Molly whispering a silent prayer to whichever damn gods were out there. 

 

The room was long and rectangular, lines of beds pushed up against the wall stretching out to the left and some closed door on the right. The vast majority of the bed was occupied by servants and workers, many of whom were beginning to stir, grumbling and moaning.

  
“What the-” One of the workers in a bed closer to the door sat up. Uh oh. He gasped.

 

“No! Wait!”

 

“Intruders!” The worker cried out, repeating it as loud as he could. Steph and Fatima both lunged at him, scrambling to shut his mouth and nearly knocking all three of them out of bed in the process. 

 

Grimacing, Molly slapped the door closed behind him. If they were lucky, no one heard and they would continue to be able to sneak around unhindered. 

 

Given his track record, he expected guards to be upon them in a matter of minutes. 

 

“Aldon!” Brylin, in the meantime, had stormed off down the room, glaring into each bed until she found the one that contained the person she was looking for. A gnomish boy who looked at least a good decade younger than Brylin with the same thick strawberry blonde hair, sat up in bed and blinked owlishly at the sound of his name, before audibly gasping when he laid eyes on his sister.

 

“Bry!” He nearly tripped out of bed in his haste to embrace his sister, many of the other workers rubbing sleep from their eyes and looking like they couldn’t decide if this was a dream or not. “What are you doing here?”

 

“We’re getting out of here.” Brylin said sternly, before quite literally hoisting her brother onto her shoulders and stomping back to the rest of them. 

 

“Aldon? Wha-what’s going on?” One of the other workers climbed of her bed, sticking her hands on her hips and planting her feet firmly on the floor. 

 

“A jailbreak, darling. Your employer is a fucking asshole, in case you didn’t know.” Molly said brightly. The worker blinked, her mouth dropping open but not looking like she was about to refute him. 

 

Muffled noises thundered somewhere outside, and he winced. Aldon looked noticeably pale, looking at them all with fear. Steph and Fatima, having released the poor soul who’d called for help, scrambled back to their feet, picking up their weapons from where they’d dropped them on the ground.

 

Molly glanced back at the room of horrified workers in front of him. No point getting them hurt in whatever firefight may ensue. He pointed at the one who’d stood up, since she seemed to know what she was doing.

 

“You, where’s the dungeon? You’ve got about five seconds to tell us so we can get out before whatever guards this house has rain down all their power upon everyone in here.” 

 

‘The du-” The woman stammered before recovering herself. “There’s a staircase, behind the kitchen. Go through that door, second left turn, then third door on the left.” She pointed to one of the doors on the right wall of the room. 

 

Well, no time to worry if she was lying or not. Saluting her, Molly grabbed Fatima’s hand and dragged her along towards the door, flinging it open. Muffled noises on the outside began to become audible as shouts and the sounds of clanking metal. After his three companions and Aldon had run (or been carried) through, Molly slammed the door shut behind him, calling out a final piece of advice to the remaining workers to bunch up at the far left corner of the room, just in case the guards or magic users or whoever Ransford had decided to bust in spells and crossbow bolts blazing. Then, if they could, to leave the building. Just in case. 

 

A rush of giddy energy soared through him, his body feeling as light as air as they ran down the corridor, counting out turns and doors. Steph kept up a constant stream of increasingly creative curses while Molly giggled gleefully. 

 

Now this was really becoming a jailbreak. 

 

“We’re going to get cornered if we just go down there!” Fatima called out. Hmm, valid concern. Molly thought quickly, trying to come up with a good plan. Of course, in this case, coming up with a plan really meant taking the first random idea that flew into his head and finding a way to make it work on the fly.

 

Luckily, he was really good at that.

 

“Brylin, Fatima, split off! Go right!” He called out, just as they passed the second door to the left. 

 

“ _ What?”  _ All four of his current companions called out.

 

“Distract them! You’ve got hammers and swords and axes, use them! Fuck his shit  _ up _ !” Molly shouted out, hoping they got the idea. 

 

If all went well, Brylin and Fatima (and Aldon, if he could manage to hold something without slicing his hand off) would be able to wreak havoc, at the very least dividing the amount of pursuers who could follow Molly and Steph into the dungeon by half. 

 

Fatima looked at him incredulously, while Brylin seemed to understand, a malicious grin spreading across her face. Aldon was gently placed on his feet and handed a handaxe by his sister, staring numbly at it. Footsteps echoed behind them, and Molly could feel his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. He was  _ not  _ going to fail now.

 

An idea flashed in his mind and he dug through his pockets until he found the firecracker he’d bought all the way back in Hupperdook - and didn’t that just feel like a lifetime ago now. Using a burst of Thaumaturgy to light the fuse, he threw it as hard as he could back down the hallway where the guards would undoubtedly be coming from. Even just a few extra seconds could be the time they needed.

 

“Go!” He shouted out, slicing his scimitars across his arms and kicking open the door, which opening up to a dark and winding staircase. “We’ll meet back up once we’ve got Shakäste!” 

 

There was no more time for deliberation or hesitation, and every single one of them knew it. Steph shared a final fearful glance with Fatima and Brylin before bolting down the staircase. Fatima held her shortsword in one hand and pulled out a dagger with the other, while Brylin took off bellowing down the hallway, already knocking over an expensive looking bookcase with her hammer. Aldon looked up at Molly with an odd expression akin to a mixture of fear and awe, his grip on his borrowed handaxe tightening before racing after his sister and Fatima, scraping holes into the walls with unbridled glee and adrenaline.

 

The magical ice coated his blades, and Molly felt the welcome rush of power that surged through his veins. The scimitars actually glowed, casting eerie shadows on the wall as he raced down the stairwell after Steph. The thundering footsteps above him seemed to merge with the heavy thudding of his heartbeat, mingling into one cacophonic drum beat that signalled the time was nigh.

 

He was so close.  _ So  _ close. Shakäste was within arm’s reach, just a few final obstacles in his way. Zadash was so close. The Mighty Nein so close. His family, every single one of them, so close. 

 

So close. 

 

There was a dull ‘boom’ from somewhere above, followed by panicked shouts, and he grinned as he caught up to Steph at the bottom of the staircase just as she managed to unlock a heavy wooden door. As she opened it they both rushed through, torchlight brighter than they could have ever expected - magically enhanced, surely - blinding both of them temporarily. He heard Steph release a cry of shock and surprise and Molly squinted, the sudden light leaving blinking patterns wherever he looked. 

 

He heard the muttering of words and felt a sudden heat. Oh. Oh fuck. 

 

Instinctively he twisted out of the way of a blooming barrage of flames that exploded on the wall somewhere to his right, diving to the ground and curling up to avoid the fire. He heard a stifled scream of pain from Steph and wrenched his eyes open as the heat subsided and the flames died.

 

They had indeed, found the dungeon. The walls were made of worn and cracked stone rather than wood, barred cells on every wall except the one behind him. Burning torches were attached to the walls between cells, some of which were open while others weren’t. At the angle Molly currently was he could see that most of the cells closest to him were empty, but there were still quite a few further back that he couldn’t see into properly. To Molly’s right Steph had staggered to her knees, writhing in pain, her left arm and half of her back seared by fire. Her cloak had all but disintegrated into nothing, and she’d dropped one of her swords to the ground, tears streaming down her face. 

 

In the centre of the dungeon stood a raven-haired elven man, tall and thin with a wicked sneer on his face and wearing along, thick black cloak that covered most of his body except for his arms, one which held a long quarterstaff and the other held horizontally, one long finger pointed at where the fireball had detonated. 

 

The man’s eyes flickered towards the currently indisposed Steph and his sneer widened into a grin, not cheerful or mysterious like how Shakäste would smile on the rare occasions he let his glee show so freely, but something far more sinister. His face twisted towards Molly, who pulled himself up from the ground, wiping a small stream of blood from a split lip and tightening his grip on his scimitars.

 

The two men met eyes, and Molly matched the elf’s grin, thundering footsteps sounding above him and his heart beating a battlecry. The time was nigh. The time for this to end.

 

Because he was  _ so close _ . He had travelled too far, gone through too much to let the universe strike him down here. Shakäste had said that the universe could only handle one Mollymauk Tealeaf. Shakäste was rarely wrong, but that time he was. 

 

The universe couldn’t even manage to handle one of him. It had tried to get rid of him twice, and he just kept coming back. 

 

He wasn’t even going to give it a chance to try again a third time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soz Steph I love you I swear but you only have 22 hitpoints at level 4 (all other characters are at level 5 for the purposes of this story) so you go down if someone looks at you wrong. This poor girl nearly dies every session yet she's the DPS for my party so if that doesn't tell you how screwed up my party is nothing is. 
> 
> Also Molly is actually an immortal universe defying fey being in a coat, you heard it here first folks.


	23. Don't Fuck With Mollymauk Tealeaf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which fire is a very useful thing to hurt people with

The elven asshole (whom Molly decided to refer to simply as Asshole for now) took a shuddering breath, lowering his arm and watching Molly carefully. He didn’t seem inclined to try burning him with fire again, which either meant he was trying to save spell slots, or didn’t think he needed to for any number of reasons. 

 

Either way, the less time Molly spent dodging fire, the happier he was. Steph was still wheezing in the corner, trying to stagger to her feet and blink back her tears, but struggling greatly. She was a heavy hitter when she got the drop on someone, but it was clear she couldn’t exactly take what she dished out. A lot like Caleb, he thought distantly, though comparing Steph and Caleb in any other way would be like comparing an apple and an arrow. Similar in that they both started with the same sound, but different in almost every other aspect. 

 

In any case, Molly didn’t want Steph to die, and if she got hit like that again, she very well might. Not to mention they had a very limited amount of time before other guards began streaming down here, so he had to move quickly. 

 

Making up his mind, Molly began to race towards Asshole in a twisting zig-zag pattern, just in case he decided to play with fire once again. The elf took a few surprised steps backwards, muttering some words that sounded oddly familiar and letting loose two beams of sickly green energy, aimed at him. 

 

Hmm. Molly was pretty sure he’d seen Fjord do something like that once. Never aimed at him though. Did that mean Asshole was a warlock too? Fire was something that a lot of magic users seemed able to learn to do, but these kinds of crackly beams seemed a bit more unique. 

 

He ducked the first blast easily, twisting out of the way of the second and darting into the space of the warlock, slashing up with both of his scimitars. The elf tried to dodge as well, managing to side-step one of his swords but not the other, letting out a cry of pain as the blade tore through his cloak, ice encrusting onto the ripped fabric and a tiny spray of blood - far less than Molly would have hoped - soaring into the air. 

 

In his new vantage point in the middle of the room, Molly could see over the warlock’s shoulder into one of the cells. He saw a bound figure inside and his heart leapt, before he saw the dark reddish-brown hair, hard, almost stiff brown skin and wide hazel, not blind at all eyes, staring at him with shock. Not Shakäste.

 

But still a potential ally. 

 

“Steph!” Molly went in for another swing at the warlock that was blocked by the elf’s quarterstaff, a loud crack filling the air. “Get the prisoners!” 

 

He didn’t have time to see if the girl could get a handle on her injuries enough to obey before having to focus back on his fight. If he could delay the warlock just long enough for Steph to get someone out - if the guards didn’t kill them both - they’d be fine. If she didn’t? Well, he’d figure it out, because he was not going to die tonight. 

 

Gritting his teeth, he redoubled his efforts, pushing on the warlocks’ quarterstaff until it snapped in two pieces, splinters littering the floor. The warlock staggered backwards before running to the side to avoid an opportunistic swing from Molly. He was quick, but as long as Molly stayed within close range, he probably wouldn’t risk another attack like that fireball. 

 

“Hey!” A gruff voice called from near the entrance to the dungeon, and Molly silently cursed. Where was Steph?

 

The warlock grinned, before Molly tried to stab at him again and he dodged, the grin falling from his face as he glanced somewhere over Molly’s shoulder. “Shoot him you idiots!”

 

Well. Molly certainly couldn’t have himself getting shot in the middle of his grand rescue, could he? 

 

“No thanks.” He said, making a wide strike at the warlock to get him to jump to the side again, allowing Molly to easily sidestep and move behind him, effectively placing the warlock in between himself and whatever guards had come to offer assistance. 

 

Just for good measure, he swung his scimitars again, this time catching him on the back as the warlock realised he’d just been turned into a potential meat shield, frantically waving at his allies to  _ not shoot _ , lest he get hit. 

 

The warlock’s back arched and he stumbled forwards, and Molly took the brief opportunity to glance around him, looking to the left first. 

 

He could see Steph, her eyes still sparkling and her injured arm pulled close to her chest but having managed to unlock the door to the cell with the hazel-eyed man, where she was pulling a gag from his mouth and cutting the ropes that bound him with a dagger as best as she could with one hand. Looking to the next cell to the left Molly could see another person lying on the ground in their cell with their back facing him, most likely a woman if the long braided black hair and dress was any indication. She didn’t stir, but she didn’t look outwardly injured, and Molly hoped she was merely unconscious. 

 

Still no Shakäste. Panic registered in his brain for the first time, because if he’d gotten all the way down here and Shakäste wasn’t even here… 

 

Nope. None of that. No godsdamned negativity in his brain tonight. If Shakäste wasn’t in here, he’d tear the entire house down until he found him. 

 

Either way, his dilemma was solved when he took a glance to the right because there was Shakäste, kneeling down and seemingly bound like the other man was, a gag over his mouth and frowning, his face turned slightly away from the action. Stacy was nowhere in sight and he didn’t look injured, but for a moment Molly didn’t notice anything else around him. There was no mistaking it. 

 

He’d found him. Not that there was ever any doubt. 

 

Now all he had to do was keep them all alive. 

 

New energy finding a foothold inside of him, Molly turned back to the warlock, who had turned around, having stumbled a good five feet away from Molly. He was no longer standing tall and straight, a grimace plastered on his features and rage simmering behind his eyes. Molly couldn’t resist taking a jab at him, feeling relatively safe with the other guards still out of his sight line. Crossbow bolts flew wide and hit nothing, since none of them seemed to want to risk hitting the warlock and were instead hedging their bets on a bolt somehow ricocheting onto Molly. 

 

“Wow. I hope you aren’t supposed to be the last line of defense for anyone trying to break out these prisoners. I’m barely breaking a sweat!” He smirked, and could have sworn he heard a very muffled groan from Shakäste’s general direction. Brilliant. 

 

The warlock took another step back, with Molly only realising  _ why  _ a split second later when a giant translucent skeletal hand manifested in the air between him and the warlock, before quickly crossing the space and latching onto Molly’s shoulder before he could even blink. Suddenly it was like all the heat in Molly’s body was drained away, his heart seeming to stop beating for just a second before faltering and starting again, shivers running through every nerve in his body. 

 

Oh. Well, that was just rude.

 

The warlock grinned, taking a slow step forward before a crossbow bolt sunk into his right shoulder, finding a space between the joints and burying itself deeply. Molly didn’t even look to see where the bolt had come from (presumably Steph, based on the angle), already launching himself forwards to take advantage of the warlock’s cry of pain. 

 

One scimitar sliced across the warlocks chest while the other found a home sinking into his stomach, a horrific gurgling sound making its way from the elf’s throat as he stumbled backwards. 

 

“Grr-you-” The warlock staggered and Molly distantly registered the hazel-eyed man racing in the direction of the guards behind the warlock, hands outstretched and rage blazing almost as bright as the fire he was conjuring. But in front of him, he saw pain contorting into a similar rage, and the warlock’s voice was suddenly a shout, filled with the kind of panicked and angry energy that only came when you realised you were actually in a very bad situation indeed. “I”m going to kill you!”

 

The elf stepped backwards and stabbed a finger in Molly’s direction and he was ready to try and dodge the fireball he thought would be coming his way but instead the fire sprung up all around him and all he could think about was how Kaimos had told him that tieflings were fire resistant, but resistance and immunity were two very different things so what was the point since it still hurt like  _ hell _ .

 

So this was what a Hellish Rebuke was supposed to be. 

 

He heard someone screaming, multiple someones really, and one of them might have been him but he rarely screamed so who could say for sure? 

 

His hand moved as if in a dream, something pricking on the back of his neck that he barely felt, a slight twinge of pain to add on to everything he was already feeling. Despite it all, he held on to a smirk, pointing at the warlock leering in front of him.

 

He was not dying today.

 

Especially not to this asshole. 

 

The warlocks cry of confusion snapped him out of his stupor, the smell of ash and smoke and burnt flesh filling his nostrils, joining the sickly stench of both fresh and dried blood, and the sounds of screams - not his own, not anymore - piercing his ears.

 

He looked from where he had fallen to his knees, seeing the warlock stumble back, eyes the same colour of his pitch black hair, drawing a dagger and waving it around in confusion. Behind him the hazel eyed man’s hands lowered to his side - hmm, he actually looked like an earth genasi, how curious - half a dozen men packed in where they’d foolishly gathered near the entrance of the dungeon, all ablaze. Some had already fallen while others screamed and frantically tried to pat out the flames, none in any position to try and attack back. 

 

Molly glanced down at his finger as the warlock’s flames flickered, leaving him with burnt skin and singed clothes but still alive. Blood magic was wild. 

 

Wordlessly, he stood up, taking one long glance at the warlock - still blinded and slashing at an enemy who he thought was right in front of him - before pivoting ninety degrees and walking over to Shakäste’s cell.

 

“Ta-da.” He squatted down in front of the bars, injecting some cheer in his voice because he could feel the adrenaline beginning to leave his system, despite the chaos raging around him. “Can never resist a good jailbreak, can I.” 

 

Shakäste made a very indignant-sounding noise from behind the gag, and Molly reached in between the bars of the cell to pull it off. Looking over his shoulder he saw Steph taking pot-shots at the warlock from a safe distance with her crossbow, leaning against the cell door she’d opened and grimacing. Figuring she and the hazel eyed man had it handled, he turned back to Shakäste.

 

He managed to pull down the rough cloth, and Shakäste cleared his throat a few times before glaring directly at him. “You are an absolute fool.”

 

“I’m a brilliant fool, thank you very much.” Molly snickered, before settling into a light smile. “And you love me anyway.” 

 

Shakäste sighed, a long exasperated sigh that was as close to an agreement as he was going to get. “Magnets for trouble, we are.”

 

“Indeed.” Molly said, and he would have been quite content to sit there and simply enjoy being in Shakäste’s presence once again. 

 

Except, you know, they still had to escape the damned house. So Molly stood up, examining the lock on the cell door for a moment before stabbing his scimitars at it until it broke - yay for ice damage! Once he got in there it was a simple matter to cut off the ropes that bound Shakäste’s hands and feet together.

 

They straightened up, hands on each others shoulders looking at each other for a moment. Once again, Molly noted the absence of Stacy. And without her…

 

“So, you’re fully blind right now, aren’t you.” He said. Shakäste shrugged lightly, before nodding.

 

“They didn’t want to take any chances with a familiar. But I can bring her back.” 

 

Molly nodded, before realising now Shakäste really couldn’t see it now. He laughed shortly, letting it fade away before standing on the tips of his toes and planting a light kiss on Shakäste’s forehead. It felt natural, a final cementation of something that they’d both silently known for a while. Family.

 

“It was awful being alone.” He said simply. “Would rather not do it again.”

 

“I’d gotten quite used to your presence as well.” Shakäste said, pulling him in for a hug. Molly leant into it, ignoring the aches and throbs that wracked his body because things finally felt right again.

 

“Are you done?” Steph’s pained voice came from the doorway to the cell and Molly nearly threw his scimitar at her. 

 

He settled for glaring at her instead. “Excuse you, we’re having a  _ moment _ .” 

 

“Can you have it a bit quicker? We need to get out of here!” Poor Steph was still in a bad state, and Molly knew she was right.

 

“Aren’t you one of the people who kidnapped me?” Shakäste mused, tilting his head in Steph’s direction as the elf just laughed nervously.

 

“Don’t worry, they were blackmailed into doing it and they’ve helped me get in here. Speaking of which, I think we could both use a heal.” Molly said, wiggling his eyebrows in Shakäste’s direction before remembering he was fully blind right now and switching to tapping him incessantly on the shoulder. 

 

Shakäste rolled his eyes as best as he could before muttering the arcane words for healing. Molly felt the magic pass through him and exhaled, smiling as Shakäste moved on to Steph, who whispered a ‘sorry for charming and kidnapping you’ to him as he healed some of her burns.

 

“Ah, these mistakes happen sometimes. As long as you work to fix it, I’m sure I can forgive you.” He said. Steph just looked at him in confusion, though whether it was because he was so casual about forgiving her or because he implied that charming and kidnapping a person was just one simple mistake was unclear. Perhaps both. 

 

There was a muffled thud from somewhere above them, and Steph’s confusion quickly morphed to panic. “What about Brylin and Fatima? And Aldon! We have to get out of here!” 

 

“Who’s Aldon?” Shakäste asked as they left the cell. The warlock now lay either dead or close to it on the ground, his chest peppered with crossbow bolts. The hazel eyed man was carrying the woman in the other cell in his arms, who Molly could now see was indeed breathing, presumably under the influence of some drug or spell since she was still asleep after all of… that. 

 

The man nodded gratefully in the direction of Molly as he approached them with the woman, a human who looked to be only somewhere in her early twenties. She was most definitely unconscious, but her chest rose and fell steadily, and she seemed uninjured. 

 

“Thank you for assisting in freeing me.” He said, bowing his head again. “My name is Lodge.”

 

“Mollymauk, though we aren’t free yet.” Molly winked at the man. “But it’s a pleasure all the same.”

 

The man’s face grew grave and he looked towards the entrance to the dungeon, where three bodies lay dead on the ground while any other guards seemed to have fled. “Is there much danger still above?”

 

“Eh, potentially. If you can cast spells we might need it.” 

 

Lodge looked down at the woman he currently carried in his arms. “I would be glad to, but I won’t be able to cast if I’m carrying her.” 

 

“You’re carrying someone?” Shakäste asked. “I can carry her, I wouldn’t be able to see where to aim any of my spells right now anyway.” 

 

With that decided, the unconscious woman was carefully transferred into Shakäste’s arms, after which they prepared to head back upstairs to potential chaos and more fighting. Steph offered one of her shortswords to Lodge but he refused, citing that even though he lacked the components for some spells, he still had plenty to use to aid in their escape. 

 

And so they headed back up the stairs, ready to cause enough destruction and chaos that it would make Jester cry tears of joy if she could see it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayyyyyyyyy everyone's alliiivvvveeeee for nooowwwwwwww and Shakäste's baacckkkkk yaaayyyyyyyy (also a couple new OC's but they don't have a huge bearing on the story so you don't need to worry about them too much)


	24. Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone takes great pleasure at the property damage they have done

“Magnificent.”

 

“Truly glorious.”

 

“I’ve never seen such a beautiful sight.” 

 

“I hope all the workers got out alright.” 

 

Everyone gathered at the windows of the top floor of an old, very fancy library that just happened to have a brilliant view of the Ransford estate glanced towards Aldon, who was looking down at the smoking and smoldering wreck of a house with a wistful look on his face.

 

“I doubt they stuck around very long once things got heated.” Molly said cheerfully.

 

It was early morning, the sun risen high enough in the sky to cast its light upon Felderwin’s Inner City, letting them all watch as the foundations of that wretched house slowly collapsed, sending plumes of ash and smoke billowing into the air. 

 

Upon exiting the dungeon, things had gotten very hectic, very quickly. Brylin, Fatima and Aldon had taken Molly’s request of ‘fuck his shit up’ to heart, having led the guards (and another magic user) on a wild goose chase throughout the entire manor, knocking things over, pounding the walls and smashing heads if they got too close. 

 

Once Molly and the others got back up there, Lodge (who had apparently spent a few days locked down in the dungeon fuming and had  _ lots  _ of spell slots to spare) hadn’t wasted time in torching the place, handily distracting everyone trying to stop them while Molly and the others gathered up Brylin, Fatima and Aldon and got out of there. 

 

Of course, they were all still extremely beat up and in varying states of consciousness, so running to the hills wasn’t precisely an option. It had been Aldon who suggested the old library, since very few people apparently used the top levels and it would be easy to sneak in during the night.

 

That it gave them all a perfect view to watch the house of horrors burn down was just a welcome bonus that they took immense satisfaction in.

 

Smirking at the destruction and chaos in the city below them, Molly glanced over his shoulder just in time to hear a light ‘poof’ followed by frantic chirping, as Stacy popped back into existence, flitting around a cross-legged Shakäste so quickly she was little more than a blur.  

 

“Ah, that’s much better.” Shakäste said, holding up a hand with his index finger pointed out. Stacy immediately flew down to land on it, chirping happily at Shakäste stroked the top of her head. 

 

“Welcome back Grand Duchess.” Molly called out, earning a chirp in response. 

 

“Woah, a familiar? She’s beautiful!” Marisol, the young woman who had been unconscious when they’d rescued her, vacated her spot at the window to run up to Shakäste, cooing at the hummingbird who puffed out her feathers and preened at the attention. Marisol, once she’d woken up, had turned out to be a cleric as well, and her spells along with Shakäste’s had healed them all up with nothing but some ripped and singed clothes (thankfully Molly’s coat had come through mostly intact) and a few faded scars.

 

“She is indeed.” Shakäste seemed just as chuffed, encouraging the bird to shift from Shakäste’s hand to Marisol’s, his smile widening as the girl fussed over Stacy. Molly walked over and slid down next to Shakäste, all the energy and adrenaline from the past few days having left him feeling ridiculously drained. 

 

“You know, we still need to get out of the city.” Fatima was leaned up against one of the walls close to the door, ostensibly on guard but really not paying any more attention than the rest of them. If any poor Crownsguard did happen to search up here, they would be hard-pressed to get anywhere to report it.

 

“Pah, escaping the city’s the easy part.” Molly waved a hand flippantly. “Just enjoy the sweetness of victory, Fatima.” 

 

“Where will we even go?” Steph asked, fiddling with some of her hair since she’d taken it out of the long braid it had been in. “Because I don’t want to be on the run forever.” 

 

“Eh, it’s not so bad.” Molly said, drawing the attention of everyone in the room besides Shakäste.

 

“The more I learn about you, the more confused I become.” Fatima said dryly.

 

“Good.” 

 

“Well, I’m headed to the Menagerie Coast. You’re all welcome to come with me.” Marisol said brightly, gently handing Stacy back to Shakäste. “It would be nice not to be travelling alone.” 

 

“Hey, now that’s an idea.” Brylin said, an arm around her brother that hadn’t shifted for at least a few hours. “Ransford wouldn’t be able to send people to chase us if we’re not in the Empire anymore.” 

 

“He still  _ could _ .” Steph pointed out.

 

“Yeah, but it would be harder.” 

 

The others chatted for a while about their future plans, talking about what they had all been doing that led them to this scenario in the first place. Lodge turned out to be a researcher, a sorcerer working on some magical theory that was taking him all over the continent to find notes that had been scattered throughout the ages. He’d been heading towards Zadash when, much like Molly and Shakäste, he’d run low on funds and taken up a contract with the Crownsguard only to run afoul of some other poor souls blackmailed (or perhaps not, it was hard to say) by Ransford a few days ago.

 

Marisol, on the other hand, had only been kidnapped the previous day as far as she could tell. She was looking for a cousin of hers who had gone on a spiritual journey and promptly vanished without a trace and Marisol had taken it upon herself to go look for him until she had the power to find him through more magical means. 

 

For the most part, Molly laid down on his back, listening vaguely to the conversation but mostly letting the words float over him like a soft breeze, his eyes closed and his arms resting over his chest.

 

“We’re nearly there.” Shakäste’s voice popped the calm feeling like a bubble and Molly cracked one eye open. Shakäste was sitting straight and looking in the direction of the others, Stacy sitting on top of his afro and looking down at Molly.

 

“You know, every time I’ve thought that, something happens.” Molly said, one corner of his lips quirking upwards.

 

“Yes. But by the end of it we are still nearly there. As long as we keep moving closer, there’s only so much the universe can throw at us in between.” 

 

They fell quiet for a moment and Molly closed both his eyes again, enjoying the peace of this moment. A part of him insisted that even this was only one brief reprieve from the never ending chaos that was his existence, but so what if it was? Someone suited to a calm, ordinary life was not someone suitable for the Mighty Nein, and Molly had no doubt that there were very few places in the world that he was as well suited for as the Mighty Nein. 

 

But the small, quiet moments in between the nonsense? The seconds where he could lie down and close his eyes, trusting that nothing was going to explode or attack them, at least for a little while, those he could do. 

 

Eventually Aldon called them back to the windows, and all of them watched and cheered as the final walls of the Ransford estate crumbled to the ground, a crowd gathered around the building reacting with shock and awe. 

 

After that, they all knew it was time to go. The Crownsguard would only get more incensed the longer they went without a culprit for the jailbreak, and now that they were all rested, healed and at their best, they couldn’t get out of the city fast enough. 

 

Lodge, the only one in the entire group with any kind of disguise spells (Molly volunteered to use his disguise kit but Shakäste sadly vetoed that idea), proved to be extremely helpful, disguising himself as a Crownsguard soldier and blustering ahead of the rest of the group pretending to very busy, very late, and very eager to call down the might of the Commander - who may or may not even exist - upon anyone who dared block him or the small group of fearful travellers he was escorting to the Outer City, traumatised by the noisy and fiery events of the previous night. 

 

It wasn’t perfect, but a few Charm Persons got them through and once they got to the Outer City it was a simple trip past Brylin, Fatima and Steph’s home to pick up some things and to the stable for Molly and Shakäste to pick up their horses (thankfully right where he’d left them) and to buy some more for those without one.

 

Once they actually got out of the city, the group travelled together down the road until they were safely out of sight of any guards who were watching the perimeter of the city.

 

“It was an honour to meet you all.” Lodge bowed rather formally to them all, even though he was going to join Molly and Shakäste the rest of the way to Zadash. “Thank you again for rescuing me.”

 

“Yes.” Marisol nodded her agreement, a little unsteady on her horse. “I’ll pray for safe travels for you three.”

 

Shakäste thanked her for the prayers (they could probably use all the help they could get) and Molly thought that was going to be the end of it. Then Fatima and Brylin brought their horses a few steps forward, making eye contact in particular with him.

 

“We want to apologise again for what we did. To both of you. Even if we were forced to do it, there’s still people who probably got hurt because of us.” Fatima shook her head lightly, the guilt on her face mirrored by both Brylin and Steph - who hung back, rubbing the arm that had gotten badly burned by the warlock, even though it was fully healed by now.

 

“We’re gonna make it better. We’ll go to the Menagerie Coast with Marisol, we’ll help her a bit, stock up on some good gear and supplies.” Brylin jumped in, her voice strong where Fatima’s had wavered. “But then we’ll come back. We may not be able to find all the people we kidnapped, but if we can help someone, then it’ll be worth it. That way-that way we can atone.”

 

“Also, thanks for not killing us.” Steph called out from behind them. “If I’d been you I probably would have.”

 

Molly just blinked, not having expected this kind of apology, directed at both him and Shakäste. For a split second his mind froze, but then the words actually registered, and he smiled. 

 

“I wish you luck.” He said, beaming. “If you ever get arrested, try and get a message to me and the Mighty Nein.”

 

“We’re absolutely brilliant at jailbreaks.” Shakäste said without missing a beat, a wry smile twisting on his face. 

 

“Phenomenal.” Molly agreed.

 

Brylin matched his beam and both Fatima and Steph smiled wanly, waving one final goodbye before turning their horses around with Aldon and Marisol, needing to circle around the city a bit to get on the quickest path to the Menagerie Coast. 

 

Still smiling, Molly glanced over his shoulder to Shakäste and Lodge, who had drifted a few feet ahead to give them some space during the conversation. 

 

“Well, we’re off then?”

 

“It seems so.” Lodge said, easygoing and seeming quite relaxed.

 

“It should normally be what, a two days trip to Zadash?” Molly tilted his head curiously in Shakäste’s direction.

 

“Mmhm. So I expect we’ll actually arrive in a week.” 

 

“Ah, nice to see you’ve kept your optimism despite imprisonment.” 

 

“Six days, if we’re lucky.” 

 

“We always are. We’re still alive, aren’t we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp here we go ~~~ 
> 
> Also just some quick info on those two other OCs Lodge and Marisol. Lodge is an earth genasi sorcerer (draconic bloodline, his family tree is fucking wild) and yeah he's just chilling out researching Magic. Marisol is a Life Domain Cleric cause im basic and she's just out looking for her missing cousin. I love them.


	25. Hellos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which nothing terrible happens at all

When Molly actually saw a sign that said ‘Zadash, 1 mile’ on it after only two days of travelling, he thought he’d gotten stuck in a dream. Or he’d accidentally turned them around and someone was playing a prank purely to trick travellers trying to get to Zadash.

 

Actually arrive at his destination within the expected amount of time?  _ Without  _ something ridiculous, deadly or ridiculously deadly happening inbetween? Preposterous. Impossible.

 

Yet once they actually got into the city it couldn’t be denied. So any doubts were quickly replaced by slapping Shakäste on the shoulder and squealing ‘ _ We’re here! We’re actually here and we’re still alive!’  _ in a probably immature but very satisfying way.

 

Lodge left them soon after arriving, thanking them again and offering his assistance if they ever crossed paths in the future. Molly barely noticed him leaving, too busy staring up at every sign and looking past every corner for a glimpse of black and white hair, or stolen trinkets clattering to the floor, or an unmistakable Zemnian accent asking to buy all the paper and ink in the Empire. 

 

Sometimes he would see a flash of blue and nearly give himself whiplash trying to follow it only to see that it was a bright hat rather than a neat blue bob bouncing as its owner moved or a sleeveless coat that rippled in the breeze. When they found a stable to tie up their horses Molly heard the word ‘Fjord’ and nearly tripped over Shakäste in his haste to find the source only to discover two stablehands discussing how a mutual friend had nearly drowned trying to ford a river to the east. 

 

Shakäste, as always, was probably the only reason he didn’t bolt in search of the friends he’d come so far to find. 

 

“The Evening Nip. Let’s find that.” He said, a gentle hand on his shoulder as Molly deflated from yet another argument in the street that turned out to be two strangers and not Beau or one of the others picking a fight. 

 

Nodding mutely, Molly could hardly believe himself. He was finally in Zadash, finally  _ here _ . The Mighty Nein felt like they were barely a breath away, yet at the same time they may as well have been on another continent. It was finally the day he’d thought about ever since hearing the words that had been written on that note, that fragile piece of paper that felt as heavy as a weight deep in a pocket over his heart. 

 

The first few people they’d asked about the Evening Nip gave them strange glances before hurrying away, which of course they would. They may have gotten to Zadash from Felderwin without issue but there were still a million obstacles the universe could throw at them.

 

Still, the sixth or seventh person - Molly had gotten distracted from counting, too busy staring at every halfling he saw to make sure it wasn’t just a disguised Nott - eventually pointed them in a direction that they took and ran with, gliding past streets that ordinarily Molly would have loved to stop and look at. 

 

But there’d be plenty of time for that once he’d found the others. 

 

They finally found it, an old building wedged in between two shops that looked like they actually got cleaned once in awhile. A worn and faded sign read ‘The Evening Nip’, the same letters Molly had seen on Caleb’s note so many times he had them memorised. 

 

Upon spotting it Molly nearly took Shakäste’s head off he was so quick to drag them both towards it, kicking the door open and possibly giving a heart attack to one of the few patrons inside. 

 

The ceiling was low, so low they had to stoop their heads to go under a chandelier hanging in the middle of the room, the stench of cheap and bitter alcohol permeating every step. 

 

A half-elven man was slumped over one of the tables, a half-empty glass in hand. A startled dwarvish woman snarled at them before returning to lazily wiping one of the tables. The barkeeper, an ancient looking dwarf with a permanent grimace and only half a beard squinted in their direction. 

 

A quick glance around the other tables confirmed there was no Mighty Nein in sight.

 

“Any idea what kind of person this Gentleman is?” Shakäste whispered, his face carefully neutral. 

 

“Well, I’m sixty percent sure he’s the guy who took our blood for a contract.” 

 

“What.” 

 

“Thirty percent sure he’s just a pretentious asshole, and ten percent he’s both.” 

 

Molly thought carefully, scouring through his patchwork of memories for anything related to the Gentleman. The bar itself tugged at his mind, so he was pretty sure this was the right place. But there was something else. 

 

He snapped his fingers together. “There’s a secret bar. With a password.”

 

Quickly, he fished out Caleb’s note, scanning over it. Nope, no password of any kind, unless he’d buried it in code for absolutely no reason. It would have been nice if Caleb had put the password down, but considered he’d presumably written the thing very soon after Molly’s death, he could forgive Caleb forgetting it. It was just one more puzzle to solve. 

 

Shakäste stood there, glancing in the direction of the barkeeper and the few others around the bar while Molly paced back and forth, muttering possible passwords to himself. 

 

“Something about coin… coin and presents-no, gifts.” Molly scowled, certain he had at least the important words of the phrase but unable to remember the entire thing. 

 

Eventually he looked down at the note still grasped in one hand, before marching right up to the barkeeper, who had been watching them for some time and seemed surprised that he was actually approaching. 

 

He recovered quickly though, grabbing a grubby cup and wiping it down with a cloth. “Can I help ye?” 

 

Molly placed Caleb’s note down on the table and turned it around so the dwarf could read it, beginning to talk as he looked over it with a curious eye. “Look, I know there’s a password about coin and gifts and things but in between my last visit here and today I have quite literally lost all of my memories so I’d appreciate it if you could let us in to see the Gentleman.”

 

There was a brief silence as the dwarf blinked at him. 

 

“I’ve got no idea what yer talkin about.” 

 

Molly briefly considered casting Charm Person on the man, but figured that might end up causing more trouble than it was worth once the spell wore off. He didn’t want to get permanently exiled from the Evening Nip, not when he was so close. 

 

“What about the Mighty Nein?” Shakäste interjected, a suave smile on his face. “They’ve been here before, have they stopped by recently? Surely you didn’t forget people like them, or someone like this.” He gestured vaguely at Molly’s entire body, who was pressing fingers to his temple and trying desperately to remember this  _ damn stupid password _ . Give me coin for gifts? Give gifts in exchange for coin?

 

The dwarf’s eyes narrowed and his gaze flicked away for a split second, like he was considering something. 

 

“I may have seen someone who looks like you before, but there is no guarantee that you and he are the same.” He said slowly.

 

“Do you seriously believe there is another being on any plane of existence willing to wear a coat like that? The fey would take one look at it and run away screaming.”

 

There was a pregnant pause and if Molly wasn’t so busy trying to think he might have been offended for about three seconds because it was undeniably true. I’m willing to buy gifts with coin? Ugh, no. 

 

“... people are willin to do a lot of things to get what they want.” 

 

I have no gifts, but I do have coin? That didn’t sound like a password. 

 

“Is there a way he can prove his identity?” 

 

While I have no gifts- wait, maybe coin. While I have no coin…

 

Molly’s finger tapped impatiently on the bar, not even paying attention to the vague negotiating between Shakäste and the barkeeper. 

 

While I have no coin…

 

“While I have no coin, I’d be willing to offer many gifts!” The words came to his mind in a flurry and left his mouth just as quickly, slamming a hand on the wooden bar and beaming at the startled barkeeper. 

 

For a moment there was silence, and then Shakäste cleared his throat. “Well, there you have it.”

 

Looking between both of them like he was still considering denying them entry, the barkeeper finally seemed to decide it wasn’t worth the hassle, leading them towards a back storage cupboard with a secret entrance.

 

As they entered the  _ real  _ Evening Nip, Molly heard Shakäste whistle lowly, seeing the surprisingly bright and spacious tavern, even if there was a constant undercurrent of sinister business and watchful eyes peering from tables and balconies. Molly took about two seconds to appreciate it before immediately ignoring the decor and shamelessly staring at every single patron. 

 

No Mighty Nein. 

 

He was probably three seconds of glaring away from starting a barfight with a half-orc who looked just a tad too much like Fjord for it to be fair when there was a cheerful voice from behind him.

 

“Well. How interesting.” The voice, almost giddy, rose above others in the tavern, causing many to cut off their conversations and stare, gazes flicking between Molly and Shakäste and whoever had spoken. 

 

They both turned, and Molly instantly focused on the speaker, a teal-skinned man with jet black hair and goatee, sprawled across a cushioned couch in a space carved from the wall, sheer curtains and fabric obscuring part of his face. The Gentleman, his helpful brain supplied, far quicker than it had come up with the password to get into this damn place. 

 

For a second, Molly’s heart skipped a beat. Well. Here he was, just where Caleb’s note had said to go. In Zadash, in the Evening Nip, maybe fifteen feet away from The Gentleman. But no Mighty Nein. 

 

Almost imperceptibly, Molly felt a hand touch against the small of his back and his gaze flickered to Shakäste, who was staring in The Gentleman’s direction with a cautious look on his face. Nowhere to go but forward. 

 

In a flash, any hesitation was drained from his face, replaced with a wide smile as he swaggered up to the table The Gentleman was sitting at. A few other patrons seated there vanished, leaving space for both Molly and Shakäste to slip in like they didn’t belong anywhere else.

 

“How interesting indeed.” Molly started off with, running a hand through his hair and leaning back.

 

“I didn’t think I’d see you back here again. And with a new… companion.” The Gentleman leaned forward, linking his hands together and resting his chin on the backs of them, a soft and sinister smile plastered on his face. “I’ll have to get Cree to come see you both later.” 

 

The name Cree sounded vaguely familiar, but Molly ignored that for now. “Of course, but that’s later. This is now.”

 

The Gentleman’s head tilted slightly, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. “Oh? I sense a story. It isn’t boring, is it?”

 

Molly barked out a short laugh. If he could do anything, it was tell a story. And this was a very interesting story indeed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Gentleman had appeared enraptured during the entire tale, barely interrupting to ask a question. He looked over Caleb’s note with a careful eye, smirking, and was intrigued to hear about Ransford’s downfall. Apparently he’d heard word of something dramatic happening in Felderwin, but not too many details yet. 

 

Molly was happy to fill him in, in exchange for the current location of the Mighty Nein. The Gentleman’s eyes had sparkled and he’d explained that while he knew the Mighty Nein were in Zadash last he checked - a confirmation that made Molly’s heart stop for a moment - he wasn’t sure where exactly in the city they were.

 

“It is the second-largest city in the Empire, you know.” He’d said cryptically. “But I’ll see what I can do, as payment for your marvellous story.”

 

He’d then written out a small note that he told them to give to an elven brunette who stood guard in front of a side-room in the Evening Nip, which apparently allowed them access to the privacy of the small room - mostly empty save for a selection of drinks laid out on a table and some space in the front of the room that would fit maybe ten people standing comfortable -  to wait in and ‘sample some of our finest wares’ while The Gentleman saw what he could do. Apparently The Gentleman really enjoyed a good story, provided enough valuable information was woven throughout. 

 

And so there Molly and Shakäste sat at least four hours later, nursing mugs of some of the sweetest and probably most expensive and illegal alcohol he’d ever tasted. Nothing to do but wait.

 

Everything he’d been through, and it all came down to waiting in a room. 

 

“He didn’t say how long ago he’d seen them.” He wondered aloud, all of his confidence draining away in what felt like the final hour of his journey leaving nothing but the fears and doubts he’d thought he’d left behind. “They might have left the city already.” 

 

“Then we will go after them.” Shakäste said serenely. 

 

Molly stood up, pacing around the empty part of the room. “They might not even want to come. Perhaps they all got hit with a memory spell and they don’t remember me.”

 

“That’s unrealistic.” 

 

“Everything that’s ever happened to me is unrealistic.”

 

“... Then we’ll go find them and restore their memories. Clerics can do that, you know.”

 

“Right. Right, of course.” Molly paused, exhaling a long, shuddering breath. Gods, what was wrong with him? 

 

He looked over at Shakäste, some of the mindless worry turning over and over in his stomach rising into his throat. “What about you?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“What will you do, if- _ when  _ we find them?” Because that was it, wasn’t it. This entire time, Molly had been trying to get to Zadash to reunite with the Mighty Nein. But then where did that leave Shakäste? 

 

“What would you like me to do?” Shakäste asked after a moment’s thought, taking a slow sip of ale and looking like he was enjoying it greatly. 

 

Molly scoffed. “Me? As if I could get you to do anything.” 

 

“Of course. But what would you like anyway?” 

 

“I-” Molly hesitated. But there was only one possible answer in his mind. “I’d want you to come with us.” An idea, probably slightly alcohol-induced, popped into his head. “Even if the others didn’t want you! I’d fight them! I said you were basically a member anyway back in Felderwin, and it’s true!”

 

Shakäste chuckled. “I doubt we’d have to worry about the others not wanting me around.” 

 

“So what do you want to do?” 

 

Shakäste paused again, another one of those long, uniquely Shakäste pauses that were always just long enough to make you think he wasn’t actually going to answer, but short enough that you didn’t dare look away just in case you missed it. 

 

“Baby, I can’t think of another group I’d rather travel with.” 

 

It was a good thing Stacy was currently preening her feathers and faced away from him, because whenever Molly told this story in the future, he definitely did  _ not  _ tear up at that, and no one could ever refute him. 

 

“You know, it’s unfair how good at words you are.” 

 

“Like I’ve said, it’s a gift.” 

 

At that moment, the door creaked open and both men glanced up, expecting one of The Gentleman’s lackeys to either tell them to get out (can’t have them drinking  _ all  _ of his expensive alcohol after all) or that he had something to tell them. 

 

Instead Jester walked through, looking over her shoulder and laughing at something before facing the front and immediately freezing in place, halfway through the doorway.

 

“Jester?” The door opened all the way to reveal the rest of the Mighty Nein - plus some greyish skinned firbolg with an absolutely stunning hairdo and a serene look on his face - standing there, some casting curious looks at Jester before following her gaze and gaping. The firbolg, for his part, just seemed slightly confused. 

 

Jester. Yasha. Fjord. Beau. Nott. Caleb. All of them. Alive. Safe.  _ Here _ .

 

Molly’s mug fell from his hands and before it could even hit the ground there were at least two squeals and suddenly he could barely breathe on account of all the people hugging and surrounding him. 

 

Here. 

 

Holy shit they were here.

 

“You’re a fucking asshole!” 

 

He couldn’t help but laugh, because of course that was what you said to a friend whom you last saw dead and buried in the ground. 

 

“Who told you you could  _ die!”  _

 

“Oh Beau. Nice to see you’re still alive.” He choked out, taking the punch to his shoulder with a laugh. 

 

“Oh-I’m so happy to see you! But also mad I cannot  _ believe  _ you went and  _ died _ !” Jester was talking a mile a minute, holding tight onto his waist where she would probably stay for at least the next hour and Molly had zero complaints about that. “The second I leave all of you decide to go be stupid!” 

 

“Don’t worry, we went and killed Lorenzo so much for you!” Nott was firmly latched onto him, skittering up from his leg to one of his arms and holding on like her life depended on it. “Caleb killed him he’s so dead you’d be so impressed!”

 

Molly suddenly felt himself being lifted off of his feet, Nott letting out a light screech while Jester just dangled her feet in the air, still berating Molly for daring to die while she wasn’t around to stop it. Warm, heavy arms were wrapped around him from behind and Molly tilted his head backwards, looking up into Yasha’s eyes.

 

“Don’t do that again.” She murmured, leaning her head forwards so her chin rested on his forehead and staying there.

 

Molly smiled, letting his voice drop low enough so that only Yasha (Nott and Jester being too busy babbling and describing how Beau totally had sex with Keg and also there was this awesome firbolg called Nila to hear him) could hear. “Wasn’t planning to.” 

 

“So, ah- you got my note?” Caleb stood maybe a foot away from Molly plus the three women hanging onto him and Beau hovering to his side like he might drop dead if she took more than three steps away, his hands stuck in his pockets and an exhausted look on his face. Fjord stood next to him arms folded with a satisfied and relieved smile.

 

“I did. Thank you.” Molly said, before realising his voice felt oddly solemn and that wouldn’t do at all because this was a happy moment. “I mean, I couldn’t read it at first but Shakäste was there!”

 

An odd look crossed Caleb’s face before realisation dawned and he swore, before looking over to Shakäste, who was still sitting down sipping from his mug. “Danke, Shakäste.” 

 

“It’s good to see you again.” Fjord said, looking at both Molly and Shakäste in turn. “It’s been… an interesting few weeks.”

 

“It’s been  _ fucking nuts _ !” Jester called out, her voice slightly muffled due to half her face being smooshed onto Molly’s chest. Then she gasped loudly. “Wait! If Shakäste’s here, we have THREE CLERICS!”

 

The importance of this fact was a mystery to everyone except Jester for a few moments, before Nott gasped as well.

 

“NONE OF US ARE EVER GOING TO DIE AGAIN!” If Molly went deaf, he knew exactly who to blame.

 

“Well, actually-” The amazingly stylish firbolg spoke up with one hand in the air, hovering close to the doorway. He seemed quietly comfortable with the group, an aura of oddness surrounding him. Yeah, he probably fit in great. Molly was innately curious about his hairstyle routine because it was beautiful. 

 

“SHUT UP CADUCEUS WE’RE NEVER GOING TO DIE!” Nott screeched. 

 

“Nice to meet you!” Molly called across the room, grinning at the firbolg. 

 

Nearly everyone began to talk over each other. Beau and Nott began competing to see who could tell the most embellished story of how Lorenzo had gotten absolutely murdered by Caleb - oh how Molly wished he could have seen it. Yasha didn’t set Molly down for a good five minutes and even then still didn’t let go of him. The others seemed content to watch and smile fondly until Jester dragged (literally) them all in for a group hug until they were a mess of limbs, sweat, tears and laughter. 

 

Molly was in the centre of it all, surrounded by his family (even Caduceus, who he would  _ have  _ to get to know later), pressing kisses into their foreheads, cheeks, shoulders, anywhere he can reach. There was no escape, especially not after Yasha manages to somehow get her arms around everyone and trapped all nine of them there. It was worth it. Every single second of walking, riding, fighting and searching. It was all worth it. He’d found them. 

 

He was home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. There we go. Now the Mighty Nein has three clerics to not heal everyone. 
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who read this up til now, and everyone who reads this after it's been finished. It's been a wild ride for me but I'm so glad I did it and I finished it. Molly hadn't been my favourite character before this but now he's at a solid like... tie for second place (Disaster Lesbian Extraordinaire Beau will always be my fave soz). Special shoutout to Gerbilfriend for leaving comments on like every chapter, you have no idea how much I loved them <3 and everyone else who left comments and kudos, y'all are great.
> 
> But yeah. Unless I randomly get inspiration for an epilogue or something with this, Nothing But A Note (AKA, watch me work through the five stages of grief with lots of swearing, jailbreaks and sarcasm) is officially complete. Thanks so much for taking a look. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hey mates! First of all I'd like to give a big thanks to everyone who reads, kudos and comments. This is the longest fic I've ever posted on this site and I'm pretty proud of it, but everyone who's shown support for it has really helped and I appreciate it so much ^_^ 
> 
> It's the first fic I've posted for the Critical Role fandom and I hope to do more in the future if the inspiration strikes me (maybe not as long as this one though) but we'll see how it goes. 
> 
> Feel free to check out some of my other fics, or come talk to me on tumblr at idonthaveanyurlideas or my art blog burgundybutterflies (I do have some critical role art and some art of some of the OCs that appear in this fic!)


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